#Harry potter x reader

[goodhitosblog]

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part three of five

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. only, theo was starting to get reckless with your secret.

↬ sfw; angst + hurt/comfort; wc: 3.0k; cw: none; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

thank you for all the supportive comments! wait for part four for the big showdown...

The streets of Hogsmeade were blanketed in a soft layer of snow, the air filled with the mingling scents of spiced cider and chocolate wafting from the shops. You tugged your scarf tighter against the biting wind, walking beside Harry while Ron and Hermoine trailed just behind, arguing about the practicality of enchanted earmuffs. The (way too) early christmas decorations hung from every storefront, casting warm, golden light onto the snow-covered cobblestones, and the faint sounds of caroling witches and wizards drifted down from somewhere near the Three Broomsticks.

“Can we stop at Honeydukes before we head back?” Ron asked, cutting off a string of heated reasons for her argument by Hermoine who glared at him darkly. “Honestly, Ron, that is your biggest concern? Buying chocolate frogs?”

Sharing a glance, both you and Harry rolled your eyes at their bickering. You chose to defend Ron, partly because if he hadn't proposed the trip to Honeydukes, you’d have. “It’s a valid concern. Not everyone can survive on determination and revision schedules, Hermione.”

The only response you received was a long sigh, audible even over the whistling wind. When a particularly strong squall almost knocked him against a house front, Harry cursed, glowering at the restless sky. “If the weather stays the same ‘til tomorrow's game, we’ll be knocked off our brooms before we can make Malfoy lose.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at him. “Don't you mean, before we can win? Honestly, Harry, I think you’re approaching this very unproductively.” Ruffling a hand through his unruly hair, you smiled at his grim huff. “On the other hand, if petty hostility makes you fly better-”

“You’ve done this a lot lately,” Ron cut you off, earning another pissed look by Hermoine. “Defending them snakes.”

You had? Not that you had noticed, but yes, you may have subconsciously been a little defensive when your friends had badmouthed the Slytherins, seeing as you were dating one of the most sensitive and thoughtful people you knew, who happened to also be a Slytherin. “I am merely advocating for proportionality,” you mumbled, but your voice was picked up by a gust of wind, carried to the wrong ears.

You heard them before you saw them- a drawled out voice from behind, having the four of you turn on your heels. “Advocating for proportionality, are you, Potter? How very noble. I’m sure the world is thrilled to hear another Potter lecture.” A large group of Slytherins had been approaching from behind, unnoticed by all of you. Though shielded by green-bronze scarfs, you could make out the faces of your Slytherin classmates, as well as some sixth years. Flickering over the group, your eyes found Theo's and they locked in silent understanding. If you weren't mistaken, he gave you a little wink, but that might just as well have been a product of your imagination.

“That's rich,” Harry snarled back, ignoring your tugging at his robes to keep going. “Coming from you, Malfoy, who loves to hear himself talk so much he gets himself friends as silent listeners that applaud everything he says!”

Sensing an approaching conflict, you quickly counted the heads of the Slytherin group- you were looking at a four to ten ratio.

Red shot up into Malfoy’s cheeks and you caught a movement of his hand, sliding towards his wand. “Better be careful talking like that, Potter, didn't your parents ever reach you not to pick fights when you’re outmatched? Oh, wait,” he laughed gloatingly and you buried your hands in your brother’s robe in a preventive manner. “Guess they didn't have the chance before they were blown to bits!”

But your warning glare didn't only fix Harry, you had caught a dangerous look in Theo’s eyes as well. As if he had felt his eyes on you, he returned your gaze and his expression softened slightly. You breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

“LISTEN HERE, YOU TWAT!” Ron bellowed from next to you, shaking his clenched fists. Both you and Hermoine shot forward to hold him back, but you made the fatal mistake of letting go of your livid brother, who barged at Malfoy, not even bothering to pull out his wand. His fist collided with his face the moment Ron followed hot on his heels, tackling a surprised Zabini.

“Merlin,” Hermoine muttered and pulled out her wand. Neither of you got to join in the brawl, though, because a very exasperated Theo had strode forward, separated Blaise and Ron and jinxed both Drace and Harry in one move, making both of them jump back and stumble. Some of his friends groaned at him, deprived of the easy victory, but his infamous death glare brought upon them silence in an instant.

Before they could cause any more trouble, you ushered Ron and Harry back on their feet with Hermoine's help, hastily steering them away from the group.

“Hey, Potter!”

Both you and Harry turned around, but the Slytherin sixth year that had spoken was looking at you. “Spare us the moral superiority in the future. You’re as self-absorbed as your little Gryffindor gang. The way you talk, it’s no wonder you don’t have many friends outside Gryffindor. Who could stand you?”

Ouch.

The hurt must have been visible in your features for a second, because his friends howled and patted his shoulder in appreciation. Harry tensed under your grip, but you tightened it and pulled him along as you walked away, Hermoine and Ron hot on your heels.

The whistles and cackles of the group followed you all the way to Honeydukes. Neither of you spoke, Harry seemed to be fuming and you didn't dare say anything to set him off.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You weren't, and you looked at Hermoine apologetically. Instead of listening to whatever your friend had to say, your gaze had gotten lost somewhere at the Slytherin table. Particularly fixed on the dark haired boy in between Riddle and Malfoy, with the face of a brooding storm. Even from the far end of the great hall, you knew the expression as not simply his moodiness but simmering anger, meticulously controlled.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely and fixed your attention on Hermoine. “What were you saying?”

Sighing, Hermoine flipped open the evening edition of the daily prophet. Some snowflakes were still caught up in her hair, relics of your visit to Hogsmeade. “You’re awfully distracted. Is it because of what that idiot Langley said?”

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew exactly who she meant. His comment had hurt you, but it was nothing you wouldn't get over. No, what held your attention in a vice-like grip that felt oh so gentle was your dear secret boyfriend who, at this exact moment, rose from his seat at the Slytherin table, undoubtedly going for a smoke to the astronomy tower.

Hermoine passed your question over, opting to pretend to read the newspaper as you could feel her careful eyes on you. “He’s in the hospital wing, you know? Langley, I mean.”

“Did he choke on his spite?” You asked absentmindedly, swirling your fork through your soup as your eyes followed Theo leaving the Great Hall. The elegance of his long strides, his upright posture, the bounce of his dark curls. It was probably as good a time as ever to realize that you were utterly and irreversibly in love with that man.

“He got hexed, nobody knows by whom. But they contemplated sending him to St. Mungos, seems like he was hexed within an inch of his life,” Hermoine explained and a realization dawned on you. An image flashed before your waking eye- Theo's expression when you had shoved Harry away. You did believe him capable of hexing Langley into St. Mungos. But you also believed him capable of a high level of intelligence that was missing from this situation.

“Was he?” you asked in a neutral voice and Hermoine nodded, no longer pretending to be interested in the newspaper. “Rumor has it that Nott hexed him, but no eye witnesses have confirmed it to the teachers. Too scared of him and his friends, probably.”

You gave up on your fruitless attempts to transport the soup to your mouth. Abruptly, you stood up and shouldered your bag with a little more force than necessary. “I think I’m going to head to the astronomy tower, I still need to finish some star charts for Professor Sinistra.”

The heavy wooden door of the astronomy tower slammed open when you marched through forcefully, the sound echoing through the chilly, starlit space. Theo didn't flinch as you slammed your bag onto the ground. He was, of course, already there, leaning against the stone wall, cigarette perched between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dark. It illuminated his face that was calm, almost indifferent. But the sharp line of his jaw gave him away. He’d been waiting for this.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you snapped, marching toward him with a heaving chest, partly from your run up the stairs, partly of fury. “What were you thinking, hexing Langley in broad daylight, in front of half the school if you can believe the rumors? Are you trying to get us caught?”

Theo exhaled slowly, smoke curling around his face like a shield. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said, voice low and infuriatingly composed. “That guy deserved worse for what he said to you.”

You’d be lying if his dangerous dark eyes and the gravely tone of his voice didn't do something for you, paired with the fact that he had sent someone to the Hospital wing for you. But that wasn't the point right now. “You were reckless, Theo. What will your friends think? That you just snapped on a whim and decided to hospitalize the guy you hung out with?”

“They’ll trust that I have my reasons,” Theo said smoothly, making not attempts to step closer to your heaving form or meet your eye.

“And what if they believe that reason is me?” you challenged him. When he looked up, your eyes locked and the intensity of his gaze knocked the breath right out of your lungs.

“Then they do,” he simply said, making you gasp in protest. With a flick of his wrist, golden embers rained from his cigarette. “It would not be the end of the world. You wouldn't care, would you?” His gaze grew sharper and you felt utterly disarmed. “You only care that your brother and your Griffindor friends don't find out you’re dating a Slytherin.”

“I know where you’re going with this,” you pressed through pursed lips. “And it's not fair. If you were ready to admit to everyone you’re seeing the Chosen One’s sister, you’d already have.”

The force with which Theo stepped forward caught you off guard. Stopping in front of you, he leaned down and a cloud of smoke pulled you in. “I’ll do it,” he whispered to you, watching your reaction closely. “I’ll go right now and shout it from the fucking rooftops.” Crooking his head, he took a step back. “But you wouldn't want that, would you?”

You didn't answer, because you knew he was right. It was you who was trying to keep this relationship quiet, but it wasn't like you didn't have your reasons. One of them being how your friends would react, sure, but since Theo’s father was a death eater, the Order could see you as a liability as well.

Theo called your name and as if on command, you looked up at him. The cigarette lay glowing on the floor, he hadn't even bothered to smother the embers with his boot. “Are you ashamed of me?” There was a guarded vulnerability in his voice. So rare that you could do nothing but stare at him for a few seconds. Theo waited patiently, but he watched every little change of expression.

“I’m not,” you finally managed to say after you found your voice. You took a pleading step towards him, but he took one back as if on chance. “Are you sure?” he asked and a hint of bitterness laced his composed voice. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fine with me being your dirty little secret.”

“You’re- you’re not-,” you stammered, your insides were squeezing painfully with the look he gave you. “Theo, you have to understand my situation here! I mean, you didn't even attempt to! You don’t understand what it’s like, Theo. I can’t just… parade this around. Harry, Ron, Hermione-they’d never let it go. And don’t get me started on the rest of Gryffindor!”

A humorless laugh escaped his throat. “You’re an idiot.” Flinching at his tone, you took a step back, but he stalked towards you predatorily. “Do you think you’re the only one who is under pressure here? Last time I checked, the people you answer to aren't ruthless murderers.”

He was right, you knew he was right. But there was a small, defiant part of you that just didn't want to accept it. “Just because you’re ready to tell them doesn't mean I am. They all see me as this perfect girl. I don’t get to make mistakes.”

This goddamn raised eyebrow that managed to stun anyone to silence appeared on his beautiful face. “And I’m the mistake, is that it? Great to know where I stand, Potter.”

“I didn't say that!” you protested, running your hands through your hair in frustration. Theo smiled bitterly. “You didn’t have to. You’d rather keep this quiet, pretend it’s not happening, because being with me doesn’t fit your perfect Gryffindor image.”

Anger started to bubble up in your chest once more and you clenched your fists, infuriated by his seemingly indifferent calm. “You think this is easy for me? Sneaking around, lying to my friends? If they found out about us, they’d never trust me again!” Your breath got caught in your throat as your voice grew quiet. “You don’t get it, Theo. I can’t afford to mess this up. People expect me to be perfect, and being with you… it’s not the safe choice. But it’s my choice, okay? Doesn’t that mean something?”

With an abrupt turn, Theo walked towards the railing and turned his back to you. A ruffle, a click, a soft golden glow and finally, a cloud of smoke rising from his figure as if he was burning from the inside. His voice was so hushed you had trouble understanding it, drawing closer but still keeping your distance. “You know, for someone so stubborn, you’re really bad at fighting with me.”

“That’s because I don’t want to fight with you.” you said imploringly, taking tentative steps toward him. Though he most certainly noticed even the most quiet of sounds, he didn't turn around. A long sigh left Theo’s lips and a large puff of smoke rose up to the stars. “Neither do I.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers. “I know I’m not handling this the way you deserve.”

Finally, Theo turned around to you and you were taken aback by the sudden vulnerability in his expression. Theo’s features were often closed off, hard to read, unmovable. But now, his eyes were heavy with emotion- a mix of regret and sadness, though a light smile played along his lips. “I’m not asking for perfect. I’m just asking for you to … trust me.”

You closed the distance between you and Theo exhaled the last puff of smoke into the chilly night air before he stepped on his cigarette. His arms reached for you and you almost threw yourself into them. You hated fighting. Once around you, his hold tightened and you felt your face pressed up against his warm chest. The tremble of an exhale left your lips as you closed your eyes and relaxed in his hold. “I do, Theo. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I wouldn’t be doing this- any of this- if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

You only got a soft rumble of his chest in response. His smell surrounded you, clouded you, and you thought to yourself you might get addicted to cigarettes if he kept smelling like them. “This might be a bad time for stuff like that, but… I've never felt like this about anyone.”

When you lifted your head from his chest, you found him already looking at you. And you had to appreciate how he must have turned down every wall he had so carefully constructed around himself to look at you with such a raw expression. “Me neither,” he almost breathed, locking your fingers. He shook his head disapprovingly. “Tesoro, your hands are ice bricks.”

“Why don't you kiss them better, then?” you asked hopefully, relieved to see a smile appear on his face. Theo brought your locked hands up to his lips and pressed slow, gentle kisses to the back of your hand. The soft tingle that followed his touch warmed your whole body.

“We’re going to have to actually talk about this, you know.” he said and you nodded slightly.

“I know. Just… not tonight.”

tag list: @annaisabookworm @empath-bunny @k0z3me @slutfordpr @aespaslut @kiarst @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @fakem0net @sammyreid @tulipsc @yasmin-oviedo @lazycrazyme

[lqveharrington]

Loathing | D.M.

summary: you and draco have loathed one another since first year, but you know something happened over the summer before your sixth year. he had changed.

pairing: rival!draco malfoy x potter!reader

includes: fluff, angst, bleeding, both of them being oblivious, both of them taking care of each other

a/n: unadulterated loathing (guess who watched wicked last week?)

The moment you met Draco Malfoy – well, the moment he insulted one of your friends and then wanted to be friends with your brother – you knew you would loathe him for the rest of your life. From every glare from across the room to house rivalries, you loathed him for all you had. Especially when he ruined your Yule Ball experience by knocking the eggnog on you and refusing to explain why, only glaring instead.

But something changed in your sixth year. He changed.

Usually, the second you got on the train to Hogwarts, he would find you and start with the insults, but this year was different. Hell, when you were trying to find Harry on the train when you got to Hogwarts, Draco walked past you without even sparing a glance. He wasn’t even in his Slytherin robes, he was just in a black suit.

Then when the quidditch season started, you learned that he had quit his position as seeker and chance as quidditch captain. You were surprised he lost almost all interest in the sport itself when he used to brag on and on about how good he was at the game. Everything he used to egg you on about was close to nothing, and it worried you just a little.

You knew something was different – he was different – and wanted to know what happened, but you knew your friends couldn’t care less about the Slytherin Prince.

“Hermoine, please tell me you noticed something wrong with Malfoy.” You murmur and enter the potions room, eyes instantly meeting the gray and blue eyes you were speaking of. He quickly averted his gaze and stared down at his potions book instead, making you frown. “He hasn’t been throwing enough insults at us this year.”

“Is that not a good thing?” She creases her brows and takes her seat beside you, pulling her potions book out of her bag. Hermione looks at you with slight unease, not really understanding why you were asking in the first place. “Besides, why should you care? Don’t you hate him?”

You don’t respond, only spinning your ring and bringing your attention back to the Slytherin Prince himself, your teeth kissing your lips in your own turmoil. He looked so tired and… Helpless. You wanted to understand what he was going through despite everything he had put you through. He was still a student at Hogwarts. It may seem out of the ordinary from your usual loathing, but if something serious was going on, you hoped to Godric that he would be okay.

For the rest of class, Slughorn assigned the most ridiculous sounding potion to create. It was supposedly the most powerful love potion in existence and when Slughorn said it could help anyone identify their true love, you doubted it. It was only when Harry properly made the potion did you test the theory out. It seemed like Lavender was having a day with the potion and kept batting her eyes at Ron, making you and Hermoine roll your eyes in annoyance.

When Slughorn called the rest of the class in pairs to come over to smell the potion and describe what they smelled, you still believed people made up with what they smelled. You thought they were just believing they smelled the person they liked. From Hermione smelling freshly-mown grass and new parchment to Harry smelling some kind of sweets, it seemed quite fake.

And you could have gotten away with not having to smell the potion when you unashamedly yawned the second Slughorn turned to look over.

“Miss Potter, since you and Mr. Malfoy seem to have found this task boring, why don’t you both come up and tell me what you smell.” Slughorn beckoned you up toward Harry’s cauldron.

Pursing your lips, you do your best not to roll your eyes as you made your way over to the cauldron, only to be overwhelmed with Draco’s cologne when smelling the potion. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, noticing he was just as confused as you.

“Maybe tone down the cologne, Malfoy.” You mutter to him and try to find a scent that wasn’t just his stupid cologne.

He rolled his eyes at you and leaned his head down, practically hissing into your ear. “Me? Your fucking shampoo is blocking all my senses right now.”

“Like you can smell that right now.” You turn your own head and glare at him, the tension growing larger and larger.

As if you were in a staring contest of who could hate the other more, you forgot about the class and only the loathing you felt for the blonde in front of you. However, the class soon began to felt the tension, uncomfortable with how you two were behaving. Whispers began to fill the air, but you two continued to bicker.

“Maybe use less product, Potter.” Draco suggested and flicked a piece of your hair off your shoulder, ignoring the way his cheeks flamed at how close the two of you were at the moment.

You crossed your arms and squinted, hating how he had to bend just to be at eye level to you. “Says the one practically bathes in Dior Sauvage—”

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Potter, please, go back to your seats. We have gathered all the information we need.” Slughorn spoke with an amused smile.

For the rest of the week, it seemed like the entire student body was pointing to you and whispering. Even if you were just switching classes or sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione, eyes averted to you before they eventually turned away when they caught your eyes.

You didn't understand what was going on. It felt like everyone you knew began to have a knew found hatred toward you and it bugged you. Even Harry gave you questioning looks from time to time. You don't remember doing anything cruel and vile.

Eventually, you did give up guessing why everyone was giving you dirty looks. You ignored all their staring and only acknowledged the people you knew didn't mean any harm toward you. It soon became a habit for you to leave the trio alone for a good hour or two, spending time to practice spells in the room of requirements; Mainly casting your Patronus and watching it have the time of its life.

Well, until one day the room began to change on its own.

“Hello? Room of requirements?" You stood abruptly and looked around at the changing room, your Patronus dissipating in thin air.

The room began to shift in size, becoming quite large in size with piles and piles of junk. As you tripped over the old trinkets decorating the room — trying to find the exit to the ever expanding room — you cut yourself on the sudden arrival of a rusted sword.

Holding your cut hand close to you body, you glared at the room like it was your least favorite thing in the entire world. "This is not what I asked—“

“Fuck.”

You heard the voice whisper before you jumped back in surprise when the person banged on something wooden. So someone who needed the room more came. That's why. As you tried to make your way out a give the person privacy, you tripped back into another pile of junk, making you wince.

“Shit.” You mutter and do your best to remove yourself from the pile, pursing your lips when you heard footsteps approach you.

Before you could even try to hide, the said person appeared right in front of you with their wand pointed at your face. You followed the wand up until you met their eyes, making you inwardly groan at your luck.

“What are you doing?” You spoke at the same time, both of you rolling your eyes at the same time.

Hastily, you stood up from your spot on the dirtied floor and dusted your clothes off, mentally cursing yourself for being ever so clumsy.

“I asked you first, Potter.” Draco tucked his wand away, glancing down at your bleeding hand. He frowned and moved around you.

You stepped away from him, still nursing your hand. Unsure of what he was going to do, you simply answered the question truthfully.

“I was using the room to practice my spells, but it changed because apparently your needs were far more important than mine.” You watched him dig through dusted cabinets and drawers, looking for something. “Now answer mine.”

“I don’t have to.” He muttered and pulled out some type of cleanser and a kit, making you recoil at the sight. You hated the doctors and it seemed like Draco was ready to operate on your hand.

“You know? I think I should go before—" You start before he raised a brow at you, looking down at your injured hand and then back up to your eyes. "What?"

“You could get in trouble, you know?” He gestured to your hand before guiding you to sit on a bed that seemed too clean to be one of the old trinkets lying around before. "You need to clean your hand before it gets infected. Everything in here is old and dusted."

"Then I will clean my hand on my own, thank you very much." You yank the cleanser from his hands and pop the cap open. You stared at your wound before looking at the bottle, already regretting your choice.

"What?" He looked over your face, noticing the hesitation in your facial expression. "Do you need me to do it?"

"Yes, please." You whisper quickly, shutting your eyes tightly when you felt him lightly dab your cut with the cleanser. You bit your lip when it stung, nodding when he told you it would be over in a second.

“I'm done." Draco murmured and threw the cloth in the trash, watching you slowly open your eyes and look at your now bandaged hand. He nodded at you before standing, finding his way back over to a wooden cabinet.

You looked around the place, noticing the fresh bedsheets and glass of water that surely hasn't been sitting there for Godric knows how long. Tucking your injured hand in your free one, you wandered the small sleeping area before stopping at all the books piled next to it.

"Malfoy, what are you doing in here?" You take a book from the top of the pile and read its title. The Fundamentals of Vanishing Cabinets. You raised your brows in curiosity, looking over at him to find him already staring. "Well?"

“Like I said, I don't have to answer you.” He murmured and stepped toward you, taking the book from your hands.

You stared at him and frowned. His image was even worse up close. You could see the bags underneath his eyes and the gel from his hair completely gone from how many times he ran his fingers through his hair. When he glanced down at you, you were once again millimeters from each other before you both pulled away in confusion and guilt, like your skin was on fire.

“Are you getting enough sleep?" You ask as he walks toward the cabinet again, but this time, you followed him over. "I don't see you eat enough during dinner either."

“You watch me, Potter?” He spoke in amusement, lips turning down to hide the smirk that wanted to present itself to you.

“What? No!" You splutter out and look away, face flamed in warmth. "Only in hatred.”

"Whatever you say." He murmured and began tinkering with the cabinet, placing a green apple on the top shelf. "Stalker." He whispered, earning an annoyed glare from you.

“Just answer the question. Why did the room change to this mess?” You look at the bed you assumed his stayed in and then change your gaze toward the cabinet he seemed so intent on working on. “And why are you spending all your time on this old cabinet?“

He opened his mouth to speak when he winced and clutched his left forearm, making you panic ever so slightly. Draco moved to sit on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to think of anything but the pain being emitted on his arm.

You frown and take his arm in your hands, pulling his sleeve up only to silently gasp in surprise. Draco pulled his arm away and tugged the sleeve down, glaring at you.

“You’re a death eater.” You look at him with wide eyes, stepping back in shock. You looked between his arm, his frantic eyes, and then the cabinet. Your head was reeling at all the information you learned. "You got the dark mark—"

“You can’t tell anyone.” Draco whispered, almost pleading you to not tell a soul. If you told Harry, then everything would go to shit. But when he saw your face clear of all shock and shift to remorse, he knew you wouldn't go against his wishes despite him being a real threat to you and your brother.

“Why? Why did…” You move closer and clutch his arm, pulling his sleeve up again and wanting to trace the design. When he stopped you, you looked up and knew it would hurt. You nodded and thumbed the skin below it, eyes looking over the ink. “You didn’t have a choice, did you?”

Draco nodded and shut his eyes when you continued to thumb the empty space, opening them when you stopped. He knew that the gears were turning in your head when you stared at him like he was you next project — which he knew you would never call him that despite the loathing you had for him.

After seconds of silence, you open your mouth and speak softly, thumb moving over the space once more. “Can't you tell Dumbledore at all? Maybe he could do something to protect you—“

“That’s not how it works.” Draco stopped your movements and tugged his sleeve down. He caught you hesitating to look over the mark again, tilting his head to the side when you took a seat beside him. "Why are you still here?"

"What do you mean?" You murmur and trace the bandage over your hand before looking up at him, meeting his blue-gray eyes. "I can leave if you want me to. But I want to know if you'll be okay if I leave first."

You kept eye contact with him for a little longer before looking away, eyes finding interest in a silver crown in the corner. You weren't sure why you cared so much about him. It was like a switch flipped on in your mind. In all your years at Hogwarts, his taunting was a constant in your life. So when that went away, you knew something was wrong and you wanted to make sure he was okay, even if your brother hated him. It was an instinct you suddenly gained.

"Why?" He stared at the mirror across from him, catching your eyes through the reflection once more. "Is it because you want more material to tease my about?"

"Godric, no." You huff and run your fingers through your hair. "I'm not a monster, Malfoy." You let a small smile slip through when he raised his brow at you. "I'm not a monster!"

"Not saying you are, Potter." He finally smiled at you. But even through the smile, you could see how exhausted he was. With whatever he was doing for the Dark Lord, you just hoped he would be fine in the end. "If I tell you I'll be okay, will you leave me be so I can finish my task?"

You turn your head to look at him properly, looking in between his eyes. You sighed and broke eye contact, "Yes." You look back up and find him millimeters away again, making you squint. "If you don't come to potions tomorrow with any kind of retort, I will be in here waiting for you, understand?"

He rolled his eyes and nodded, "Whatever gets you out of here, Potter."

Nodding, you stand and dust off your clothes once more. Talking with Draco civically was quite a feat, but you knew it was for the better or worse. But just before you could leave the room, you heard his voice ring out to you once more, you first name falling from his lips instead of your last.

"Don't use that strong of a shampoo anymore, yeah?"

You send him a half smile, "Only if you don't apply your entire bottle of cologne."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 you still would've been mine

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you and james get closer to each other as the days go on, remus, your ex, soon realizes and feels jealous even though he knows he has no right to. 

warnings: james is end game, drama, jelly remus, fluff, angst, lowkey a cliffhanger..

1.8k words

The following weeks felt like a dream you didn’t quite dare to trust. You and James had grown closer—so much closer. His presence became a constant in your life, his easy laughter and steady warmth like a balm for your soul. He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything of you, but the way he looked at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the room, made your heart flutter in ways you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.

It was during one such moment in the library, late at night, that you caught him staring at you again. You were seated across from him, your textbooks spread out between you as you tried—and failed—to focus on your Potions assignment. James was supposed to be working on his Transfiguration essay, but his quill rested idly in his hand, his gaze firmly on you.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

James grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Nothing. Just... you look different lately.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

He shrugged, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Happier. Like the weight of the world’s not sitting on your shoulders anymore.”

Your heart tightened at his words, but not in a bad way. It was strange to think that he could see through you so clearly. “I guess I am,” you admitted quietly, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your parchment. “Thanks to you, mostly.”

James’s expression flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might say something. But instead, he gave you one of his trademark grins and reached for his quill. “Well, I’m glad to be of service. Now, focus on that essay before McGonagall roasts you alive.” 

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for once, you let yourself enjoy the moment without overthinking it.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ;.

But not everyone seemed as happy about your newfound closeness with James.

It started with the glances—subtle, fleeting, but noticeable all the same. Every time you and James walked into the Great Hall together or laughed a little too loudly in the common room, you could feel a pair of familiar amber eyes watching. Remus had always been quiet, his emotions carefully controlled, but lately, there was a tension in the way he held himself whenever you were near. It was as though he was constantly on the verge of saying something but never quite managing to.

The tipping point came one evening in the common room. You and James had just finished a heated game of Wizard’s Chess, and James was laughing at your feigned indignation over your loss. His hand brushed yours as he reached for one of the chess pieces, and though it was an innocent gesture, the spark it sent through you was anything but.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as you bit back a smile.

James leaned back in his chair, his grin as cocky as ever. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Before you could retort, a voice cut through the cheerful atmosphere.

“You’re awfully confident these days, Potter.”

Both you and James turned to see Remus standing near the fireplace, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked between the two of you, lingering on your still-close hands before settling on James with something that almost looked like a challenge.

James raised an eyebrow, his easy demeanor shifting slightly. “Just enjoying a game of chess, mate. Didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Remus’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course not. But maybe you should consider how things look to others.”

The air grew tense, and you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably. “Remus,” you began softly, but he didn’t let you finish.

“It’s just… surprising, that’s all,” he said, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something darker. “How quickly some people move on.”

The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. James, however, was on his feet in an instant, his usual playfulness replaced by a steely resolve.

“That’s enough, Remus,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t get to make her feel guilty for trying to be happy.”

Remus’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and he turned away without another word, disappearing up the staircase to the boys’ dormitory.

James let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning back to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded slowly, though your chest felt heavy. “Yeah. I just... I didn’t think he’d react like that.”

James hesitated before sitting down beside you again, his hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “He’s probably just... dealing with his own stuff. Doesn’t excuse what he said, though.”

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to be understanding even as your emotions churned inside you. The confrontation with Remus had stirred up feelings you thought you’d buried, but as James’s steady presence grounded you once again, you realized something important: the past might still linger, but it didn’t have to define your future.

“Thanks, James,” you said quietly, offering him a small smile. “For sticking up for me.”

He returned your smile, his eyes soft. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

And though the tension in the room hadn’t completely faded, you felt a warmth settle in your chest that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something. Something real and unshakable, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself hope that it might be enough.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The weeks following James’ quiet but constant presence had been transformative. While you were still piecing together the fragments of your heart, James had become your steady companion, grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected. His easy laughter and unwavering loyalty were a balm to the wounds you’d once thought irreparable. And though you hadn’t acknowledged it out loud, something deeper was growing between you.

On a crisp autumn evening, James found you in the library, hunched over a pile of books. He grinned as he approached, a strand of his messy hair falling over his forehead.

“You know, if you keep frowning at those pages, they might just frown back,” he teased, sliding into the seat across from you.

You couldn’t help but smile, closing the book in front of you with a sigh. “Studying for Potions is basically begging for a headache. Slughorn’s quizzes are impossible.”

James leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Lucky for you, I’m a master at Potions.”

“You’re a master at barely scraping by,” you shot back, smirking.

“Details, details,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, let’s take a break. I know a place where we can actually breathe.”

Curious but wary, you allowed him to lead you out of the library and through the winding corridors of the castle. Eventually, you found yourselves at the Astronomy Tower. The view of the grounds stretched out beneath you, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

“Wow,” you whispered, stepping closer to the edge. “I don’t come up here enough.”

James stood beside you, his hands in his pockets as he gazed out over the horizon. “It’s one of my favorite spots,” he admitted. “Quiet. Peaceful. And the stars at night? Incredible.”

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering at the way the light caught his features. “Thanks for bringing me here,” you said softly.

James shrugged, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You looked like you needed it.”

The two of you stood in companionable silence for a while, the breeze tugging at your hair. But the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable—it was easy, natural. And as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you found yourself glancing at James again, your chest tightening with unspoken feelings.

“James,” you began, your voice hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

He turned to you, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “Anything.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Why have you… why have you stuck around? With me, I mean. After everything with Remus.”

James’ expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hands still tucked in his pockets. “Because I care about you,” he said simply. “And because I want to be here. With you.”

Your breath caught, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “You… you’ve been so good to me, James. I don’t know if I deserve it.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are—all of you. And I… I think I’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

His confession hung in the air, a fragile, beautiful truth that made your heart race. You stared at him, your emotions a whirlwind of surprise, relief, and something you hadn’t dared to name until now.

“James,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I… I think I feel the same way.”

A slow, radiant smile spread across his face, and he reached out to take your hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time in months, you felt completely and utterly safe.

“Well,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “That’s good to hear.”

The two of you stood there, hand in hand, as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the stars began to emerge. There were no grand declarations, no dramatic gestures—just the quiet, profound realization that something new and beautiful was beginning.

As the soft glow of the moonlight bathed the tower, James stepped closer, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Can I—?” he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

And then his lips were on yours, warm and gentle, as though he was afraid to break the moment. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying yourself as the world seemed to tilt. The kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed—soft, tender, and filled with unspoken promises. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing heavily.

James smiled, his hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and joy.

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “I’m glad you did.”

The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, ready to face whatever came next—together.

[eva105]

I hope... No one minds if I add a vampire hunter D... Okay..?

Me with you guys simping over hot men

[un-creativename]

Yule Ball

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It was the year 1994, almost four months from that dreadful day at the Quidditch World Cup. Almost four months since she broke things off with Fred after one too many comments from his mother about her and her family.

“What a coincidence seeing you here, Malfoy.”

Clearly, Fred Weasley did not get the memo.

“Coincidence?” She repeats as she raises an eyebrow in a mix of annoyance and suspicion. “The castle has seven stories and yet I’m expected to believe our meetings are pure coincidence?”

“Like I said, coincidence.”

The cocky smirk on his face should’ve aggravated her but after a year of their secret little tryst, she’d reluctantly grown fond of it. But she wasn’t naive by any means, Fred was as cunning as a Slytherin most times—a statement that he very quickly feigned offensive to when she mentioned it. There was no way he kept finding her on accident.

“How do you keep finding me, Weasley?”

“I have my ways,” He grins with a shrug. “But that’s besides the point, what’s this I hear about you hanging out with Pucey? I thought you didn’t socialize with your former affairs.”

Now that piece of information she wasn’t surprised he’d known about, not when most eyes were on her due to the Yule ball being just weeks away. “I’m speaking to you, aren’t I?” She mutters as she attempts to move past Fred.

As she tries to walk away, Fred swiftly blocks her path with a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “Oh come on now, you know I’m different from him,” he teases as he moves to stand in front of her. “You actually love me.”

As they stood in front of each other, she felt a mix of frustration and longing wash over her. Fred seemed to have a skill at getting under her skin, despite how hard she fought to keep herself in check. She’d taken the plunge into a relationship with him early in their fifth year, something she didn’t or rather couldn’t find in her to regret.

“I loved Pucey.”

Fred's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He knew her well enough to sense when she was putting up walls. “Right,” he drawls, not at all convinced by her response. “Is that why you broke up with him after three months of being together? Because if we do that math, love, we were together for almost seven months more than you and Pucey. Wonder what that must mean?”

She rolls her eyes, trying to mask the way her heart skips at the reminder of their secret rendezvous. “It means you’re insufferable and persistent, Weasley. But now that’s over, so it’s high time we move on, don’t you think?”

Fred's jaw tightens at her words, his usual playful demeanor slipping for just a moment. "Move on?" he echoes, taking a step closer until she can feel the warmth radiating from him. "Tell me honestly, Malfoy, have you managed that yet? Because I haven't.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and she finds herself unable to look away from his eyes. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that she hasn’t seen since they broke up the day after the World Cup. She’s desperate to ignore the heartache that passes through her. “The Yule Ball is weeks away, it’s the perfect chance to move on. For the both of us…”

Fred's expression hardens at her words, his hands clenching at his sides. "Right, because that's exactly what you want, isn't it? To watch me take some other witch to the ball while you go with someone daddy dearest picked out for you.”

She flinches at his words, the truth in them stinging more than she'd care to admit. "That's not fair and you know it," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, what’s not fair is that you broke up with me without even giving me a chance to defend you against my mum’s accusations.”

Her breath catches in her throat at the raw pain in his voice. She wants to tell him that it wasn't just his mother's words that drove her away, but the crushing realization of how doomed their relationship really was. The thought of watching him defend her against his own mother, potentially fracturing his family relationships, had been too much to bear.

She closes her eyes briefly, fighting back the emotions threatening to spill over. "I couldn't watch you lose your family over me. We both know how this story ends – a Malfoy and a Weasley, it's like some tragic tale waiting to happen. We would’ve broken up eventually…”

Fred's hand suddenly shoots out to grasp her wrist, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "So you're telling me you'd rather live with 'what-ifs' than fight for us? That's not the fierce witch I fell in love with." His words hang in the air between them, heavy with unspoken emotions and possibilities.

“Yeah well, that witch you fell in love with has a family filled with blood supremacists. So forgive me if I didn’t think we’d last for much longer anyway. So, please—and you know I don’t say that often—just let me go.”

The silence between them stretches, heavy with unspoken words and shattered dreams. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, “If that’s what you want, fine—but don’t expect me to pretend I don’t still love you when I see you at the ball with whoever your dad chose.”

୨ ✦ ୧

The Great Hall was decorated in its finest Christmas splendor, ice sculptures glistening under the enchanted ceiling. Her burgundy dress robes swished softly against the floor as she danced with Robert Hoglund, a Durmstrang student her father had chosen for her. She couldn’t help but scan the crowd, inevitably landing on a head of ginger hair. Fred was dancing with Angelina Johnson, his usual cheerful smile in place, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. When their eyes met across the dance floor, she looked away quickly, tightening her grip on Hoglund’s shoulder. The music swelled around them, but she barely heard it over the thundering of her own heart. As Hoglund led her through another turn, she caught a glimpse of Fred whispering something in Johnson’s ear, making her laugh.

She forced herself to look away, reminding herself that this was how things had to be. The weight of her family name felt heavier than ever on her shoulders as she continued to dance with Hoglund, mechanically following the steps she’d been taught since childhood. Each twirl seemed to move her further away from what her heart wanted, but closer to what was expected of a Malfoy.

“Miss Malfoy?” Hoglund called in his thick accent, pulling her from her thoughts. “Would you like to take a step outside? You seem…distracted.”

She forces a polite smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fresh air would be lovely, yes,” she responds, allowing him to lead her towards the entrance. As they walk, she can’t help but feel Fred’s gaze burning into her back, and she silently curses herself for still being so aware of his presence.

The cool night air hits her face as they step out into the courtyard, providing temporary relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind of the ginger haired twin. Hoglund stands beside her, maintaining a respectful distance that annoyingly makes her miss Fred’s casual invasions of personal space even more.

Hoglund clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “You know,” he starts with hesitation, his accent thick with uncertainty. “I can tell your heart isn’t in this. Perhaps we should call it a night?” The suggestion, though politely delivered, carries a layer of understanding that makes her relax.

She nods, feeling a mix of relief and shame at his perceptiveness. “Thank you for understanding,” she manages, her voice barely above a whisper. As Hoglund bows and turns to leave, she catches a flash of movement near the entrance to the Viaduct courtyard, and she hates the way her heart stutters when she recognizes that familiar silhouette lingering in the shadows.

Fred steps out of the shadows, the moonlight catching his features in way that makes her unable to look away from him. His dress robes are slightly disheveled, his bow tie loose around his neck. “You had me worried for a second there, Malfoy. What’s a bloke too think when the witch he loves leaves a ball with another guy?”

She stares at him, her heart racing at his sudden appearance. “You should be with your date,” she whispers. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making it harder for her to maintain her resolve as she takes another step towards her.

“She’s more interested in George, which is great for me, I’m more interested in blond Slytherin witches anyway.”

She hates the way her heart flutters at his words, once again putting her mind and heart at war. “Must you be so persistent?" she asks, wrapping her shawl tighter when a cold breeze blew past, trying her best to feign annoyance though she’s sure he doesn’t believe her.

“You love me for it,” Fred replies, taking another step closer until they’re merely inches apart. His fingers brush against her arm, and she can’t help but shiver–though whether from the cold or his touch, she’s not entirely sure.

Her gaze flickers down to his lips before she can stop herself, fully aware of the twitch of a smile he does when he notices. “Freddie,” she whispers, his name a warning and a plea all at once, but he’s already leaning in, his forehead resting against hers. In this moment, with the distant sounds of the ball fading into the background noise, she finds her carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble a lot faster than she would’ve hoped. “Why’re you so hard to get rid of?”

“Because you’re impossible to forget,” he murmurs against her lips, his hands coming up to her face. “And clearly you don’t want to get rid of me yet, you would’ve hexed me by now if you did.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her resolve weakening with every passing second. The familiar warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice so close to her–it was all becoming too much to resist. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s tilting her head up, closing the gap between them as their lips meet in a kiss that feels like coming home.

Time seems to stand still in this moment, the world around them fading into nothing but background noise. His hands thread through her hair, careful not to disturb the intricate updo she'd spent hours perfecting, while her fingers grip the lapels of his dress robes. When they finally break apart, both slightly breathless, she can see the familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

“Fancy a trip to the Room of Requirement? Because personally, I think a certain Princess owes me a dance.”

She can’t help but laugh, the sound mixing with distant echoes of the ball. “Contrary to Draco’s behavior, Malfoys aren't really royalty,” she says, but she’s already reaching for his outstretched hand.

Fred’s grin widens as he tugs her closer. “Well you’re royalty to me,” he says, pressing a quick lingering kiss to her temple. “Now come on, I’m owed a dance after bravely watching you dance with some Durmstrang git for over an hour.”

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©un-creativename : All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

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[lizziesangel]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 7

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: +4.7k

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travelling

to be added to taglist

The sun filtered gently through the glass panes of the greenhouse, casting soft patterns of light across rows of exotic plants and herbs. Herbology class was well underway, and you were elbow-deep in soil and greenery alongside Lucas, who had somehow managed to turn a simple pruning task into an elaborate plan for early retirement.

“Added some lacewing flies and a bit of powdered root of asphodel to this,” he said, pointing to the strangely wriggling plant in front of him, a devil’s snare cutting, “We could probably start our own illicit potion business. Think about it—retirement by seventh year.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a cloth and shaking your head. “I’m not sure Professor Garlick would be too thrilled if we used her greenhouse as our secret lab.”

Lucas sighed, putting a hand over his heart with exaggerated disappointment. “Ah, the crushing weight of responsibility. We could’ve been legends, Y/n.”

“Legends for getting expelled, maybe,” you said with a smirk as you carefully pruned a particularly thorny stem.

Professor Garlick approached your table, smiling approvingly as she noticed your progress. “Very good, you two! Lucas, Y/n, keep up the excellent work. And do try not to let the devil’s snare strangle you,” she added with a wink.

Once she moved on, Lucas leaned closer to you, whispering, “Imagine the scandal—two young potioneers with enough galleons to buy a private island in the caribbean.”

“You’d probably find a way to ruin it,” you teased, nudging him as you moved to another plant. “And besides, there’s more to life than mischief, you know.”

Lucas gave you an exaggerated gasp, as if you’d said something offensive. “More to life than mischief? Sacrilege!” he shook his head, feigning disappointment. “How did I end up with a friend who has such… practical dreams?”

“Pure luck, Lucas,” you replied with a grin.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling back. “Fine, we’ll stick to legal Herbology pursuits—for now.”

As the hour went on, you and Lucas worked in comfortable silence, tending to the plants and whispering snatches of gossip about other students when Professor Garlick wasn’t in earshot.

After class, as you gathered your things, you noticed a few Slytherins nearby, casting glances your way. Lucas noticed too, and his expression shifted to something slightly annoyed.

“Why do they always look at us like that?” he muttered, tightening his grip on his bag. “You’d think they’re plotting our downfall or something.”

You shrugged, amused. “Maybe they’re intimidated by your incredible potion-business ideas.”

Lucas grinned. “Obviously. The Slytherins can sense power and ambition from a mile away. They’re jealous.”

The common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening, the fire crackling softly as you curled up in your favorite armchair with a book balanced on your lap. The faint chatter of students coming and going was a distant hum in the background, and for once, the usual chaos felt like a comforting lull.

You were only half-paying attention to the words on the page, your mind drifting to the slug club party later that evening. The dark purple dress you’d bought with Lucas hung neatly over your trunk upstairs, waiting for the moment you’d finally have to face the reality of being Tom Riddle’s date. It wasn’t exactly something you could forget, but for now, you tried to focus on your book.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the story, a familiar, weighty thud landed on the armrest of your chair. You looked up to find Shadow—your mysterious cat—perched beside you, his green eyes blinking at you like he’d been there all along.

“You,” you muttered, putting the book down and reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “You’ve been missing for days. Where have you been?”

Shadow didn’t answer, obviously, but he let out a soft purr and nuzzled against your hand as if to make up for his absence. You smiled, feeling a strange wave of relief at his return. Even with his habit of disappearing, shadow always seemed to reappear at the moments you needed him most.

“There you are!” Maeve’s cheerful voice rang out, and you looked up to see her, Alicia, and Lilith coming through the portrait hole. Lucas trailed behind them, holding a box of what looked suspiciously like contraband sweets from Honeydukes.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Maeve said, flopping onto the couch across from you. “Lucas said you were probably reading, but I thought you’d already started getting ready for the party.”

“Not yet,” you admitted, scratching shadow under his chin. “Trying to delay the inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” Alicia repeated, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down beside Maeve. “You’re going as Tom Riddle’s date. That’s not inevitable—it’s gossip gold.”

“Or terrifying,” Lilith added quietly, her brown curls bouncing as she sat cross-legged on the floor near the fire. “I mean, he’s… scary.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lucas said, waving his hand dismissively as he dropped the box of sweets onto the table. “If anyone can survive an evening with him, it’s Y/n. She’s practically unshakable.”

You gave him a dry look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’ll need it,” he replied, smirking as he popped a chocolate frog into his mouth. “But seriously, it’s just a party. Plus, you’ve got the best dress in the castle. Riddle will look like a second thought next to you.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” you said, rolling your eyes. “As long as I outshine the future dark lord, all is well.”

Your friends laughed, and for a moment, the tension you’d been carrying all week eased. Shadow hopped off the armrest, stretching lazily before curling up at your feet, his purring filling the space between your banter.

“So,” Alicia said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “Are we all meeting up after the party to dissect every awkward detail?”

“Obviously,” Maeve said, grinning back. “This is too good to miss.”

Lucas sighed dramatically. “You know, sometimes I think I’m the only normal one in this group.”

“Normal?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who suggested starting a black-market potion business during herbology.”

“She’s got you there,” Lilith murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Lucas huffed, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Fine. But if Riddle tries anything shady, I’m hexing him. Rules be damned.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said, smiling despite the knot of nerves tightening in your chest.

Shadow let out a low, rumbling purr as if to say he agreed, and you scratched his ears again, feeling oddly comforted by his presence. No matter what happened tonight, at least you wouldn’t be facing it completely alone.

You stood in front of the mirror in the Gryffindor girls’ dorm, smoothing out the dark purple silk of your dress as you took a shaky breath. Tonight was the slug club party, and while part of you was excited for the evening ahead, while a heavier feeling lingered underneath—a strange mix of dread and curiosity about spending the night as Tom Riddle’s date.

“Okay, let’s see it! Give us a twirl” Alicia’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned, showing the full length of your dress to your friends. Alicia’s grinned, her green eyes lighting up as she clapped. “You look stunning, Y/n! Riddle’s not gonna know what hit him.”

You rolled your eyes but did as she asked, spinning in your dress. The fabric flowed around you, brushing your ankles, catching the soft glow of the room’s candlelight. It was simple, but elegant, and it felt… right. Yet there was still a knot of nerves coiling in your stomach.

Lilith, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed, gave you an approving nod. “Seriously, you look incredible. And if he doesn’t appreciate it, well… he’s an idiot.”

“Or, you know,” Maeve said with a smirk, “He’s just Tom Riddle, and he doesn’t appreciate anything.”

“But, honestly, Y/n, you look amazing,” Maeve added, standing back to admire her friend.

You let out a laugh, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “Thanks, guys. but… it feels weird, you know? like, I want to go and have fun, but with him?”

“I just…I don’t know. I kind of want to go, but… Riddle as my date? It’s… complicated.”

Alicia laughed, shaking her head. “You think? He practically just told you that you’re his date, didn’t even ask if you wanted to go with him. Sounds about right for him.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly give ‘polite,’” Lilith agreed, her brows knitting together. “But you don’t have to be around him all night, y’know? Stick with Lucas and his date. He’ll be there, and you can just make a night out of it.”

You sighed, playing with the hem of your dress. “That’s the plan, honestly. But… Riddle just has this way of… getting under my skin.”

Maeve snorted. “I mean, he’s intense. I can see how he’d get under anyone’s skin. But look, just… don’t let him intimidate you, yeah?”

Alicia leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And if he starts acting all dark and mysterious, just give him one of those looks you do. The one where you look unimpressed by everything.”

You laughed, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I think that’ll be my go-to tonight. I’ll probably need it.”

Lilith smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth and a hint of pride. “We’re serious, though. You don’t owe him anything, okay? He’s your ‘date’ because he decided he is, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel pressured. It’s just one night.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a mix of gratitude and reassurance. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Maeve hugged you quickly before stepping back. “You won’t have to find out. We’ve got your back—even if we’re not there. and if Riddle gives you trouble, just remember: you can handle yourself. No one messes with our girl.”

Alicia gave you a little nudge toward the door, grinning. “Go knock ‘em dead, Y/n. you’re going to have an amazing time—even if Riddle is… well, Riddle.”

You took a deep breath, smoothing out your dress one last time. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

As you left the room, your friends called out goodbyes and last-minute pieces of advice, and you felt a small surge of confidence. Yes, he was intense, and yes, he had a way of unsettling you in ways you couldn’t quite explain. But tonight, you had friends who had your back, even from afar.

The castle was alive with energy as you walked through the halls, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor. Lucas was by your side, his usual mischievous grin replaced with a faint look of concern. “Don’t worry, Y/n,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “If things get too weird with Riddle, you know I’ll be there to pull you out.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you replied, though the tightness in your chest told you there was no simple escape from whatever would unfold at the party. “But if things get too weird, I might just disappear into the punch bowl.”

Lucas laughed, but his gaze lingered on the door ahead. “If you need a distraction, I’ve got the best one in mind. I’ve already got some tricks up my sleeve for Slughorn.”

Before you could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows near the entrance to the party. You felt your heart skip a beat when you saw him—Tom Riddle, tall, imposing, his dark eyes catching the flickering light as he leaned casually against the stone wall. For a moment, everything seemed to slow, as if the world itself had taken a collective breath.

Riddles’s gaze flicked over to you the second you stepped into his line of sight, his lips curling into that infuriatingly smug smirk. He didn’t even spare Lucas a second glance.

“Ah, Y/n,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, yet carrying an underlying sharpness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I see you’re finally ready for the evening.” his eyes never left yours as he spoke, completely ignoring Lucas standing beside you.

“You look... okay, Y/n.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow, a frown tugging at his lips. “You could at least say hello, Riddle. It’s called manners.”

Riddle’s gaze flicked briefly to Lucas, but only for a moment, barely acknowledging his presence before returning to you. “Manners, Creevey?” he repeated, his tone bored, as if the concept didn’t interest him in the slightest. “You’ll excuse me if I have more... pressing matters to attend to.”

Before Lucas could respond, Riddle stepped closer to you, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he reached out and took your arm, his grip firm and possessive. “Shall we?” he said, his voice low and commanding.

Your breath caught in your throat as he began to lead you away from Lucas, his fingers warm against your skin, his touch sending an unexpected jolt through your chest. the tension in the air thickened as he pulled you further into the grand hallway, the buzz of the party growing louder.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Lucas called after you, his voice laced with an edge of irritation.

Riddle didn’t even look back. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to forget about your entertaining presence,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. The way he said it made you feel as though you were already stepping into a different world—one that was far removed from Lucas and your friends.

As the two of you approached the doors of the party, you felt a sudden surge of nerves, your heartbeat picking up its pace. It was as if the walls of the castle were closing in around you, the weight of Riddle’s gaze heavy on your back.

When you stepped into the grand ballroom, Slughorn was waiting near the entrance, his jovial expression lighting up as he spotted you. “Ah, here they are!” he boomed, his round face flushed with excitement. “The charming Y/n and our guest of honor, the ever-elusive Tom Riddle!”

Riddle’s lips curled into a tight, enigmatic smile as he bowed his head slightly. “Professor,” he said smoothly, his voice as calm and controlled as ever. “I’m honored to be here.”

You gave a tight smile, not sure whether to feel nervous or irritated by the way Riddle was behaving—calm, collected, but almost too detached for comfort. Slughorn beamed at you both, clearly enjoying the spectacle of the night.

As Slughorn led you further into the room, introducing you to a few other guests, you felt Riddle’s fingers gently tighten around your arm, pulling you just a little closer to him. “Don’t get too comfortable, Y/n,” he murmured lowly, his breath brushing against your ear. “I’ll be the one to decide how comfortable you get tonight.”

You shivered involuntarily, a mixture of annoyance and something else you couldn’t quite identify flooding through you. You managed to keep your voice steady, though your pulse raced in your ears. “And if I don’t want to play by your rules?”

Riddle’s smile deepened, his eyes dark with an unreadable emotion. “You’ll learn to, eventually,” he said with a soft laugh, the sound sending an icy chill down your spine. “We all do. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath hitched.

Before you could reply, Slughorn was back at your side, beaming at both of you with a glass of champagne in his hand. “Ah, the perfect pair! Tom, Y/n, you two are going to be the highlight of tonight, I can feel it!” he said, his voice booming above the music. “You’re like a shining star, Riddle,” he added, addressing Riddle with an exaggerated wink. “And Y/n, my dear, you’re simply glowing tonight. Glowing, I tell you!”

You gave a tight smile, feeling Riddle’s gaze still lingering on you as Slughorn chatted animatedly, clearly enjoying the attention. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of something possessive, something dangerous—that sent an uncomfortable shiver through you. The feeling was unmistakable.

The room was buzzing with energy, the soft clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversations, and the elegant swirl of music filling the air. Slughorn, as usual, was floating between groups, effortlessly charming everyone around him. You, however, found yourself slipping away from the crowd, subtly scanning the room in search of someone.

Lucas had been acting unusually off tonight, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with something more subdued. He’d mentioned earlier that someone had asked him to the Slug Club party, and ever since, he’d been on edge, occasionally glancing across the room as if he were searching for someone.

You couldn’t help but wonder who the mysterious person was. It had to be important if it was causing Lucas, the master of wit and sarcasm, to lose his usual calm. You caught sight of him standing near the punch bowl, chatting with Cressida and Maeve, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere—across the room.

You tried to focus on the scene, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being drawn into a curiosity you couldn’t fully explain. Trying to mask your distraction, you turned your attention back to the room, but your gaze involuntarily flicked toward Lucas again.

“This is getting a bit sad to look at, don’t you think?” Riddle’s voice was smooth, his tone oozing amusement as his sharp eyes locked on you. He was standing so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ve been watching you watch him. Curious about who he's looking for, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, trying to ignore the sudden prickle of unease as his words seeped into your mind.

“How about I save you the trouble?” Riddle continued, a slight smirk curling on his lips as he leaned in just a little closer, his voice low and chilling. “His name’s Jace Fenwick. A sixth-year Hufflepuff. Somewhat popular, though a bit of a loner when it comes to socializing outside his little friend circle.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “How do you even know this?”

Riddle ignored your question, continuing with unsettling ease. “Fenwick doesn’t really have the best reputation. You see, his father’s a wizard who supports the ‘dark side’, though he’s kept it quiet—surprising, considering the family’s connections. He’s been known to flirt his way into getting what he wants, but never quite manages to hold anyone’s interest for long. He’s been eyeing Lucas for a while, though I suppose you could say the feeling is mutual. He’s the kind of person who likes to think of himself as a knight in shining armor, always trying to rescue the underdogs, but really, he’s just after the thrill of the chase.”

Your pulse quickened as you tried to absorb the torrent of information Riddle was throwing at you. “Why would you even know all of this?”

Riddle’s gaze darkened, his eyes glittering like polished stones in the dim light of the party. “I observe, L/n. It’s a habit of mine,” he said casually, almost too calmly. “You should really stop wasting your time wondering. It’s a little too obvious.”

You weren’t sure if his words were meant to unsettle you, or if he was simply indulging in his usual method of rattling people. Either way, it worked. You felt your heart beat a little faster, a strange mix of irritation and discomfort swirling in your chest.

“Did you even ask Lucas if he wanted you to interfere with his personal life?” you shot back, trying to keep your composure.

Riddle raised an eyebrow, his expression never faltering. “If I didn’t interfere, how would you ever know the truth about anyone, hmm? Especially a person like Lucas Creevey.” He paused, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper as he added, “It’s not exactly a secret that he’s not as invincible as he likes to believe.”

You swallowed thickly, biting back a retort. You didn’t need to hear more about Lucas’s life from him. The unsettling calm with which Riddle delivered his revelations made you uneasy. He wasn’t just reading people; he was dissecting them with ease, like a magician pulling apart the strings of a carefully crafted illusion.

“And here you are,” Riddle continued, his gaze never leaving you as if savoring every word. “All caught up in someone else’s drama. Does it bother you? To see the people you care about distracted by their own petty games? You’ve become rather… fixated on him, haven’t you?”

Your lips pressed together into a tight line. “I’m not fixated,” you said sharply, though your tone wavered slightly under his stare. “Just concerned.”

“Of course,” Riddle said, his voice dripping with a mix of sarcasm and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Concerned. How noble.” He straightened up then, his posture almost regal as his eyes lingered on you. “Tell me, Y/n, are you always this… naive?”

“Do you see someone else in him?”

Yes. Harry.

You blinked, your mind spinning with the tension that had suddenly thickened between the two of you. His words, while meant to provoke, felt like something much darker, as if there were a deeper meaning lurking beneath them. You couldn't tell whether he was mocking you or simply enjoying the control he seemed to hold over the conversation.

Before you could respond, he offered you one last lingering glance, his lips curling into that knowing smirk.

“Anyway, the party’s waiting. You should enjoy yourself tonight,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But don’t forget—I always know more than you think.”

With that, he turned on his heel, walking away as though he hadn’t just stripped away every ounce of comfort you'd felt about tonight.

As you watched him leave, you couldn’t help but feel unsettled, the fragments of his words replaying over and over in your mind. He knew too much. And, strangely, you couldn’t decide whether that terrified you even more… or intrigued you.

The party was winding down, the soft strains of music from the orchestra fading into a low hum, and the chatter of students gradually thinning as they gathered their coats and prepared to leave. You had spent most of the evening trying to keep your distance from Tom Riddle, still wrestling with the unsettling pull he had on you and the fear that he was, in fact, the very creature you had learned to despise—Voldemort.

But despite your best efforts, your gaze had often strayed toward him across the room, the way he carried himself with such eerie confidence, the way his dark eyes seemed to lock onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every time you tried to leave his orbit, he would reappear, always speaking in a way that left you breathless, or even more confused than before.

Now, as the party came to a close and the last guests began to file out, you tried to make your way to the door, hoping to slip away quietly and forget the unnerving conversation you’d had earlier. But just as you turned the corner of the corridor, you found yourself face-to-face with him.

Riddle stood there, his figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. His eyes glinted in a way that made your heart skip a beat, and you froze, instinctively taking a step back.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was smooth, almost too calm, like he’d been waiting for this moment. “I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “I was. But it’s getting late, and I—”

“I’ve been studying you, Y/n.” Riddle’s words cut through your excuses, his tone suddenly serious, leaving you no room to avoid him. “You’re different. In a way that’s difficult to ignore.” His gaze flicked over you, the piercing, calculating intensity making you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you swallowed hard. “What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

“You’re not like the others,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “You’re not easy to read. You don't act like the others in your little group. There's something beneath the surface, something…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, “…intriguing.”

Your breath hitched at his cryptic words, a mixture of confusion and wariness settling in your stomach. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Riddle,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he was looking at you made it difficult to concentrate.

“I think you do,” Riddle said softly, his voice almost a whisper, like a secret just between the two of you. “But you won’t admit it. Not yet.”

You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Something in his voice, something about the way he was speaking, felt like a challenge—a game he was playing at your expense. But despite your growing unease, a strange part of you was compelled to hear him out.

“Stop playing games,” you said, trying to hide the uncertainty creeping into your tone. “What do you want from me?”

Tom took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t want anything,” he said, his voice low and tinged with something darker.

“At least, not yet.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could form the words, he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek with an almost unnerving gentleness. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as your body responded to his touch against your will.

“And what if,” he began, his voice now a mere breath, “I wanted to see what would happen if I took a little more than I should?”

Your stomach twisted, and you could barely process his words before he closed the space between you, his lips crashing against yours in an unexpected, forceful kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your thoughts scattered, leaving you dizzy and breathless as you stood frozen for a moment, your body in complete shock. His lips were soft yet demanding, pulling you into a kiss that was far too consuming for your mind to catch up with. The weight of his presence—his power—pressed down on you, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to melt into it, unable to tear away.

But as soon as it had started, he pulled back, his eyes dark with something unreadable, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His fingers lingered on your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw as if he were memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch.

You blinked, still reeling, your mind in a whirlwind. Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling unevenly, and you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. But as your heart hammered in your ears, you realized one thing clearly—nothing had felt the way you thought it would. You had expected revulsion, disgust, fear. Instead, something different stirred inside you, something both thrilling and terrifying.

“You really are a puzzle, Y/n,” Riddle said, his voice now softer, more deliberate. “I think I’m starting to like the challenge.”

Your mind raced, trying to process his words, the kiss, and the way your body still felt the lingering effects of his touch. But then it all came rushing back—he was Voldemort. The person you were supposed to hate. The monster who had caused so much pain and suffering.

And yet, you couldn’t deny the fact that he’d kissed you.

But you didn’t have time to think about it. The hallway seemed to close in around you, and you found yourself taking a hesitant step back, your thoughts a jumbled mess. The weight of the moment hung in the air, thick with tension and unanswered questions.

“You’ll understand in time,” Riddle said, his voice almost teasing as he took a final, lingering glance at you. “I promise you, Y/n—this is far from over.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, confused, and aching in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

The world around you felt too heavy as you tried to collect yourself, but one thing was certain—everything had just changed between you and Tom Riddle.

i am SO SORRY it took so long to update 😓😓- go to taglist request to be added, otherwise you will NOT be added

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[lumosou]

୨୧ — The Harry Potter boys and their Love Languages ( ˆ͈̑꒳ˆ͈̑ )੭ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none!! just fluff and love.

ꕤ — A/n ; eee i’m so sorry for disappearing for a bit ☹️. but i appreciate alll the support u guys have been showing me on all my works!! ily guys!! so here’s a fun lil treat :3 thank u endlessly 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter & Acts Of Service.

Harry isn’t good with words—not the ones that matter, anyway. He stumbles, stammers, gets stuck trying to say how he feels. But when it comes to showing you, there’s no hesitation. His love is found in the way he waits outside the library to walk you back to the common room, how he memorizes your favorite tea and makes sure there’s always enough sugar. It’s the way he notices when you’re too tired to finish an essay and stays up scribbling notes for you even though he’s just as exhausted.

He’s the boy who gives pieces of himself quietly, always watching, always finding the small gaps in your day where he can slip in and help without you asking. Because that’s what he needs—to feel like he’s protecting you, even from the smallest inconveniences.

Harry doesn’t say I love you in grand speeches. He says it in the way he fixes your broken quill without telling you, how he gives you the better seat at dinner, how he’d gladly carry your burdens if you let him. To him, love is action—every unspoken I’ll take care of this wrapped in the quiet hope that you’ll understand.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley & Quality Time.

Ron doesn’t need extravagant displays of affection; he just wants you. To be near you, to sit next to you, to share the little pieces of his world that make him who he is. He thrives in your presence, whether it’s laughing over a ridiculous chess match, walking the long way to class just to keep the conversation going, or sitting quietly by the fire while the hours slip by unnoticed.

Time with you is how Ron shows he cares. It’s in the way he always makes room for you—on the couch, in his day, in his life. He’ll wait for you after lessons, save you a seat at every meal, and offer you the last Chocolate Frog without hesitation. He’s happiest when you’re there, no matter what you’re doing, because your company makes everything better.

For Ron, love is in the small, stolen moments. It’s in the way he notices the things you like, the way he teases you just enough to see you smile. He doesn’t need to say it out loud—not when every minute he spends with you is his way of saying, You matter to me.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley & Physical Touch.

Fred speaks in touches—quick, fleeting, and full of mischief. A hand on your shoulder as he sneaks up behind you, a playful nudge of his elbow to make you laugh, the way his arm always ends up slung around your shoulders like it belongs there. He’s tactile in a way that feels effortless, like he can’t help himself when it comes to you.

But then there are the other touches, the ones that mean more than he ever says out loud. His hand brushing yours under the table, his fingers ghosting over your back when you’re standing close, the way he pulls you into a hug that lasts just a second longer than it should. He’s all warmth, all ease, all Fred.

With him, touch is a language of its own. It’s how he shows he’s paying attention, how he steadies you when the world feels too loud, how he reminds you that he’s there—always, without fail. He’ll twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while you’re trying to focus, just to see you roll your eyes, but his thumb will stroke gently over your knuckles when you’re quiet, reminding you that he sees more than you think.

Fred’s love is in the way he’s never far, his presence a constant, reassuring hum. Every touch, whether playful or tender, says what he won’t always put into words: I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re mine.

୨୧ — George Weasley & Acts Of Service.

George loves quietly, but he loves deeply. His affection isn’t loud or flashy—it’s in the little things, the unnoticed gestures that leave no room for doubt. He’ll stay up late helping you finish that essay, even though he’s got his own work waiting for him. He’ll charm the Gryffindor common room fire to burn just a little brighter when you’re cold, or tuck a sweet you love into your bag without a word.

With George, it’s all about thoughtfulness. He pays attention—really pays attention—to the things that make you happy. He knows your favorite snack, your favorite quill, the way you like your tea. He notices when you’ve had a rough day before you even say a word, and his first instinct is to fix it. A joke, a small gift, a ridiculous gesture—it’s all his way of saying, I’m here for you.

But his acts of service aren’t just practical—they’re personal. He’s always finding ways to make your life brighter, softer, more manageable. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll take something off your plate without you asking. If you’re sad, he’ll make you laugh, even if it means making a fool of himself. And when you ask why he does it, he’ll shrug, his ears pink, and say, “Because I can.”

George’s love is subtle but unwavering. It’s in every thoughtful detail, every small action, every quiet I’ll take care of it that he hopes you’ll notice but never expects you to. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention—it just is.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom & Words Of Affirmation.

Neville’s love is soft, steady, and full of reassurance. He’s the boy who sees the best in you, even when you can’t see it yourself. His words are careful, heartfelt, and impossibly earnest—he’ll tell you how brilliant you are after every small success, remind you how brave you are when you’re doubting yourself, and whisper how beautiful you look when you catch him staring.

But Neville’s words aren’t just sweet; they’re intentional. He notices the things you’re insecure about—the things you try to hide—and makes it his mission to remind you of your worth. When you’re frustrated or overwhelmed, he’s the one who tells you, It’s okay. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. He believes in you wholeheartedly, and he’ll never let you forget it.

His love is in the way he writes you little notes when he’s too shy to say things out loud, the way he always manages to find the perfect compliment at the perfect moment. Neville’s words aren’t about flattery—they’re about truth. He means every single one.

With Neville, you never have to wonder how he feels. His words wrap around you like a warm hug, a constant reminder that you’re loved, cherished, and seen. To him, every You’re amazing is another way of saying, I’m so lucky to have you.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy & Gift Giving.

Draco shows his love in the way he gives—not just things, but pieces of himself. His gifts are thoughtful, deliberate, and so carefully chosen that you can’t help but feel how much he pays attention. A rare book he tracked down because you mentioned it once, your favorite sweets neatly wrapped and waiting for you after a hard day, or an heirloom quill with a note that simply says, It reminded me of you.

It’s never about the price, though he pretends it is. He’ll roll his eyes and call it no big deal, but the way he watches your reaction gives him away every time. Because it isn’t just a gift—it’s his way of saying, I see you. I notice what makes you happy. I care.

But it’s not all material. Draco gives his time, his attention, his loyalty. He’s there when you need him, even if he doesn’t know what to say. He shows up with a coffee you didn’t ask for or slips a note into your bag that reads, Don’t forget how brilliant you are. It’s in the way he lends you his scarf when you’re cold or makes sure your favorite seat by the fire is saved.

Draco’s love is in the details, the way he always finds the perfect thing to remind you how much you mean to him. He doesn’t say I love you easily, but his gifts? They say it for him. Quietly, fiercely, and completely.

୨୧ — Cedric Diggory & Physical Touch.

Cedric’s love is quiet, steady, and impossibly warm, and it shows in the way he touches you. It’s never demanding, always gentle—a hand at the small of your back as you walk through the halls, his fingers brushing yours under the table, or the way his arm wraps around your shoulders without hesitation when you’re cold. With Cedric, touch isn’t just comfort; it’s a promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

He’s affectionate in ways that feel effortless. He’ll press a kiss to your temple when no one’s looking, or pull you into a hug so tight it feels like he’s shielding you from the world. When you’re upset, his thumb traces slow circles over the back of your hand, grounding you. And when words fail, it’s his touch that reassures you—light, familiar, unshakable.

But it’s the little moments that matter most. The way he reaches for you instinctively, his fingers intertwining with yours like they belong there. The way his forehead leans against yours in quiet moments, his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of you’re everything to me. Cedric doesn’t just touch you; he anchors you.

To him, love is closeness. It’s the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his hand in yours, and the way he’s always, always pulling you closer—because with you, he’s home.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[redros3y]

what a dream. i read this all the way through and will rr more than once <3

obsession (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

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[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

[marypaol]

My Hurt, My Hurt

Harry James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Reader overhears Harry saying something hurtful. And words hurt.

Warnings: Crying, gossiping about others, mentions of eyes being puffy (I don’t know lol), angst, one bad word.

Note: For the lovely @pottermagiczz for requesting! I really hope you like it!

It wasn’t on purpose, the accidental occurrence of being right outside of the room where the conversation was taking place.

But her feet had taken her there, looking for her lost Potions book that she had perhaps left there previously. It was then where she heard murmuring, the voice of two teenage boys discussing something over hushed tones.

As an average person would, the curiosity brewing in her chest got the best of her, and, her Potions book slowly being forgotten, leaned her ear towards the room, trying to catch even a few words they were saying.

Fortunately for her, she quickly discovered that one of those voices were Ron Weasley, and it is common knowledge to know he’s not such a good whisperer.

“So you don’t like her?”

“Shh Ron! Not so loud, will ya?”

The owner of the second voice was obviously Harry Potter himself. She figured such since she often heard Snape call him out while she was working, and she started to recognize the voice without glancing upwards; plus she, as everyone else as well, quickly figured out Snape had a disliking for Potter.

“So you do?” Ron asked urgently, breaking the girl out of her thoughts about Potions, her mind once again slowly forgetting her book that was probably on the table right in front of where they were talking.

“No I don’t. She’s crazy, Ron. Always talking about him. I tried to talk about something else, but she just started crying.”

The girl would’ve heard a undisturbed laugh, but what she heard instead was Ron muffling it with his hands, somehow making it sound more obvious of his chuckles.

Her heart squeezed with anxiety. She recalled a moment, a moment where she didn’t want to remember, but her brain brought it to the front of her mind anyway, pushing it into her thoughts despite her protests.

It started with a sweet Hufflepuff boy she encountered, resulting in blushing cheeks and brushing shoulders. Their lips have locked and their hands have intertwined. But even by a couple months he locked lips with another girl in what they thought was an abandoned corridor, her teary eyes being the next thing he saw when he heard a sniffle.

He tried to explain, tried to gain her broken heart’s pieces back together, but it was no use. So she was left broken and teary-eyed, running through the halls before bumping into Potter, his flustered face turning scarlet out of surprise and embarrassment when he saw she was crying.

He had comforted her that day, warm arms she always dreamed of being in wrapping around her shoulders. She observed from a far that when he hugged friends after Quidditch games, he often placed his face in their neck, and he was doing just that. His nose tickled her skin, his soft breathing brushing it. His lips were something she would always remember, for his mouth was touching her shoulder. She remembered shivering in the best way, but she hoped he took it as she was shaking from the endless sobs that were previously escaping her. But as soon as he wrapped his arms around her, as soon as his lips touched her skin, as soon as his heartbeat was beating in her ears, the sobs ceased.

Was he talking about her? The moment where he held her at her most vulnerable state, the moment he provided her so much comfort that she believed nothing could hurt her again. He could’ve been taking about anyone else in the school, for there was so many girls they could be discussing.

But only one girl he comforted while she was sobbing over a break up with a boy. And that was her.

So yeah, it burned, it burned when he talked about that moment like it was nothing, like the comfort he provided her was fake. Did he even care? Why would he be annoyed by her hurt? Why would he be annoyed when her heart was crushing by the second, watching as her hands fumbled with the pieces as he held her?

And something else burned, besides her chest that was trying by the second to stay together, and that was her eyes, for the tears were brimming her lids.

Her vision got blurry. And yet she stayed, her brain telling herself that he had more to say, more words to destroy her with before she finally walked away.

And she was right, painfully, for Harry wasn’t done yet.

“Why was she crying?” Ron asked. She could hear Harry’s eye roll in his voice, annoyance dripping from his words.

“It’s obvious, Ron. He isn’t with her anymore.”

“Right.” Ron muttered. “Well didn’t she have the right to be sad?”

She peaked just enough to see Harry shrug. “I mean I guess but it was so awkward- like go cry to someone else, please. Plus she ruined my robes with snot.”

It wasn’t just the words that hurt, but the tone in the boy’s voice. He sounded done, annoyed even. But why would he decide to comfort her when he was gonna later go and make of it?

She backed away from the door, eyes burning with the very tears he just ridiculed. She faintly heard Ron bid goodnight, his heavy steps going up to the boys’ dorm once Harry said the same thing.

She was sure she heard Harry’s footsteps as well, squeaky shoes from rainy Quidditch practice going up the stairs, following Ron.

She entered the Common Room then, eyes blurred as she spotted her Potions book on the table. She gripped it in her fingers, almost like she was giving it her pain before practically sprinting up the stairs to her own dorm, a sob wedged in her chest the whole way up.

As soon as she entered the room the noise was let out, the pain in her chest far worse than it was that night in his arms. She sat on her bed, hugging a pillow as if it would take her heart ache.

She thought Harry cared about people other than his friends. She thought he was nice. Maybe the popularity around Hogwarts just made him careless. She didn’t know the reason, but all she knew was that she was planning on never talking to Harry again.

It’s not like he would care anyway, right?

Her eyes were red the next morning. Which was something she hated, but she had to deal with it. She could’ve simply put her wand to her face and casted a spell to get rid of it, but she recalled an occurrence where a girl in Hufflepuff did that only to have such puffy eyes she couldn’t see for two days; even the nurse took forever to get the swelling down.

But, to her fortune, they swelled down a little bit by the time it was breakfast.

She sat in her usual spot, the one no one else sits at, away from everyone else.

Yes, it as her Fourth Year at Hogwarts and her she still didn’t really have any friends. Sure, she was on good terms with Hermione and Ginny, but they didn’t speak to her often, mainly focused on Harry.

Harry.

They spoke quite a lot since the encounter in the corridor, her crying in his arms. He would stop by her dorm steps and walk her to class, walk by her in the corridors and catching up on the latest news.

But ever since last night she wanted to break that bond, for now she thought differently of the boy. She wouldn’t lie though, she did miss talking to him. She missed the smile he would give her in the mornings, and the soft giggles they would share in Potions class, making fun of how Snape’s nose looked abnormally large that morning.

But it was all over.

She thought he cared about her.

Was all those exchanged giggles and smiles for nothing? Just a cruel joke to him when to her they meant everything?

She ended up not being able to eat that morning, for the swirling in her stomach from Harry’s words kept her from doing so.

She kept her head down most of the meal, not wanting to make accidental eye contact with anyone so they could see her partly red eyes.

It wasn’t until her ears picked up on the sound of feet stepping toward her that she looked up.

Only to meet green eyes the color of freshly grown spring grass.

She almost flinched at the sudden company, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Why did he want to talk to her? He just made fun of her, now he’s gonna act like he cares?

His lips parted and closed like a fish for a couple seconds, them just staring at one another before he spoke. “Hi.”

His voice was shaky but he didn’t stutter.

She cleared her throat, embarrassed that he probably could see her red eyes. “Hello, Harry.”

She mentally cursed him for looking so good today. He didn’t look any different than the other times she’s seen him, realistically, but maybe the fact that she planned not to talk to him her mind highlighted all his good features.

His glasses framed his eyes exceptionally perfect, cheeks flushed and eyes darting too and fro every couple seconds.

Damn it Harry, why do you have to be so cute?

She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed on his feet, putting his weight on one leg then the other. His eyebrows shot up as if he was surprised at her question before putting himself together and replying.

“W-” his throat cleared. “Why aren’t you talking to me anymore?”

She almost was thrown back by his answer. He couldn’t be serious.

But the hopeless tone in his voice proved her otherwise, like he genuinely wanted to know. The way his eyes were so wide in confusion and wonder behind his glasses, wondering why she was avoiding him.

Obviously he didn’t know she was outside the Common Room during his complaints towards her, but why did his confusion and slight hurt look so genuine?

She cleared her throat, both to make her voice not crack and clear her running questions in her mind. “I think it’s quite obvious, Harry.”

His confusion only got deeper and more expressive, eyebrows furrowing and forehead ceasing in thought. “I’m afraid I do not follow….”

She suddenly felt a spur of anger towards the boy before her, own eyebrows scrunching in frustration. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Harry. Don’t act like what you said wouldn’t have any effect on me whatsoever.”

“What I said?” He questioned, face showing even deeper confusion. “I didn’t say anything about you, not anything negative that is.”

“Oh don’t lie,” she found herself blurting out. “I heard you saying that I was annoying and that you wanted me to drool all over someone else-”

“Woah,” he interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing her arm oh so gently. He then let a light-hearted laugh escape his lips, unknowingly to him only raising the anger inside her.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded, trying to rip her arm out of his grip but failing to do so.

“Love,” he started softly, sitting down beside the girl and finally letting go of her arm, leaning his elbow on the table in front of them. He then faced her, face showing so much genuine feelings that she had trouble staying angry with him, so much so that she felt the snarl on her lips falling into a slight frown.

He then tapped her leg to bring back her attention to him, as if her brain wasn’t already crowded with thoughts of the black-headed boy. “Did you even hear your name within the conversation?” He asked gently, a teasing glint in his eyes.

She scoffed, like the answer was obvious, but now that she thought about it she couldn’t quite place hearing her name in their discussion, for he just used pronouns. But that didn’t make the possibility of them discussing her any less.

“Well, no, but that doesn’t mean-”

He sighed, shushing her softly. “Yes it does, because I wasn’t even talking about you. I was talking about..” he then hesitated, almost like the actual person he was gossiping about was watching him over his shoulder. “I was talking about Cho.”

The girl’s eyes widened, subconsciously spotting forward on the bench of the table closer to him. “But I was crying and you comforted me,” she protested, still trying to convince herself that she was the person he was talking bad about. But Cho? What had she done to Harry to make him talk so negatively about her?

“So did Cho,” Harry started. “Sobbing about Cedric. And I know that it was a valid reason to be crying about, but it was awkward because we aren’t that close, and she ruined my freshly cleaned robes.”

The girl couldn’t help it, she let out a tiny giggle at not only the fact that Harry was complaining about his robes, but the face he made. He looked like he genuinely felt bad for talking bad about the Ravenclaw, yet deep down he really wasn’t sorry; his expression of showing it was too funny not to laugh at.

“Hey, I feel kinda bad now, okay?” Harry attempted to protest, but he still had a curved corner to his lips.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she assured. “I’m glad you weren’t talking about me, because I would definitely missed talking to you.”

Harry’s cheeks dusted pink which made her admire him more than usual, his shoulders curving into his neck to attempt to hide himself.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Harry’s voice suddenly went lower, in a quiet whisper that she had to slightly lean in to hear him. “That I don’t at all regret what I did to comfort you, and that I care about your feelings. And that I would never to anything to intentionally harm them.”

It was the girl’s turn to have flushed cheeks, for she could feel them burning her face up at that very moment. Her heart fluttered at the praise and the love that flooded his words. She felt warm all over, her chest fuzzy with emotion as she shyly looked away from him. “Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me. And that goes for me as well, I care about your feelings too.”

Harry smiled, something she wanted to see every second of her life. His eyes crinkled beneath his glasses, happiness flooding his features and she could feel her cheeks warming, all because of the boy in front of her.

“Do you think that we can forget this misunderstanding and start over?” She asked almost shyly, like she was embarrassed for assuming their discussions were about her.

Harry eagerly nodded, making her chuckle, and they shook hands to seal their promise.

Let’s just say that those intertwined hands didn’t separate until they got to their next class, for they were afraid Snape would ridicule them at their public forms of affection.

[cruel-seduction]

Golden Trio Masterlist

Harry Potter

~ Harry Potter Headcanon || 18+

more character yet to come

[asthronauta]

CAZA DE BRUJAS│Black Brothers – Male Reader.

Summary: A war had begun. The Wizarding World and the Muggle World were no longer two separate worlds. Hiding and scared; it was no longer possible to differentiate between a Wizard and a Muggle. People were accused shamelessly and sentenced without trial, without mercy. Looking for the slightest suspicion to light the stake. With the fear of being pointed at, and with his life in danger; one night, [Y/N] put his two children in the car and left. Fleeing from the war. Fleeing from the hunt.

Warnings: Okay, how the hell do I explain this? This is not a conventional Reader fic guys. Look, there isn't really a ship here- Reader is Sirius and Regulus' father. Yeah. Of course it's entirely platonic, Reg and Sirius are little kids here. So, that being said — Drama, Angst, A lot of Lore, Descriptions of Physical Violence, Descriptions of Death, Verbal Violence, War Themes, and I guess I'll be warning of more as the chapters go by (yeah, chapters. I have plans for this shi). Enjoy 😁👍

Btw, english is not my first language so there may be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Wizards had always been careful. Discreet. Hiding their abilities from those who they knew it wasn't advisable to reveal. They understood the implications of their nature; superiority, in a way. A reality that was uncomfortable for many and a reason of pride and hierarchy for others. Possessing magic, in veins or in soul, was naturally a threat to those who didn't. Like a wonderful and unfair blessing that not everyone had. Which naturally put them on a podium where there was no neutrality; just inferior and superior. Only two options; to have or to not have. Two beings, with the same capacity for intelligence but, with the supernatural ability to possess magic or not. Wizards weren't stupid; they were fully aware of this. It wasn't for nothing that families with fancy names and heavy egos kept their blood away from those who, despite possessing magic, didn't possess the bohemian quality of what ran through their veins. What they fought so many centuries to keep impeccable. Untouchable; like an infinitely valuable treasure that shouldn't be stained. Infected with something impure like Muggle Blood.

Even with the vanity of some, it didn't escape them that their abilities not only put them on top of the podium; it also made them easy targets. Despite the little faith that was placed in them under the eyes of Wizards, Muggles had proven not only to be able to prosper without magic but also that they could become dangerous. Over the years, Muggles developed a terrifying capacity of adaptability. Demonstrating that they had the ability, intelligence and ingenuity to overcome their physical limitations and surpass boundaries that the nature of their bodies imposed on them. Creating methods known by themselves as 'Science' that led them to have knowledge of which Wizards believed they were the only owners. Although this was a great triumph for non-wizards, for those who did possess magic it was nothing more than a huge warning sign.

Carrying their own wars on their backs, Muggles had proven themselves perfectly capable of killing each other. This shouldn't be a problem for the Wizarding Community except that, at the end of the day, they weren't that different from Muggles. Their magic gave them power and protection and an endless sense of superiority but, at the end of the day, it lived in the back of their minds that Muggles could kill a wizard if they didn't have a wand nearby. That their bodies were just as fragile and without magic they were at the mercy of those who didn't possess it. It was from then on that the Wizarding World and the Muggle World began to divide more and more. And, at the same time, become closer than ever.

Ministry of Magic took action on the matter and began to give the non-magicians a space in their laws, giving them rights as a method of defense for their own safety. A seemingly friendly back-and-forth that served to hide the real fear they hid under the carpet. A protection pass for themselves in exchange for protection for non-wizards. - Many Wizards did not agree with this. Seeing the Ministry's strategic actions as a sign of weakness. It wasn't entirely their fault; the great voices of the Wizarding World had taken it upon themselves not only to show Muggles as inferior creatures but also hide their true capacity, for decades. — It was 1917 and Wizards and Witches were used to dealing with Muggles as inferior beings to House Elves. It was unthinkable and scandalous that they were now being given a place in the law. And, even worse, that they had rights and were protected like any decent Wizard. There were protests and the Wizarding World was shaken that February of 1917. But the Ministry did not give in. And without giving many explanations; the Protection and Prevention project for Non-Magical Subjects was approved in the Law. As well as many others that came after. Trying to keep the interaction with Muggles at bay as if they were a lethal disease. - The Ministry tried to work quietly, knowing that the true and dangerous nature of non-magic beings would bring fear and panic to the Wizarding World. Besides, a politician would never tarnish his own campaign by showing weakness.

Wizards always hid themselves away from the Muggle World, but the subject had never been taken with the seriousness and caution with which it had since 1917. From then on, Muggles ceased to be inferior beings and became thinking beings who begun to create their own world that, in some aspects, surpassed the Wizarding one. They were clearly a threat and that was why the Ministry took the measures it took at the time. Despite that, the knowledge was not shared with the public. Hiding the technological and scientific advances of Muggles; passing them off as Wizarding discoveries. Shamelessly covering themselves with other people's wisdom because that seemed the best they could do in the face of such a growing threat. - The Ministry used to hide cases of Muggle murders of Wizards. Committing acts outside their own laws. Erasing memories of Wizards just to keep that feeling of superiority alive between Wizards and Witches. Because it wasn't convenient for Wizards to know that a Muggle could be capable of ending the valuable and superior life of a Wizard. The Ministry's plan seemed to be going well for the first few years, but it was all just a balloon that was inflated more and more, destined to eventually burst. And it did. In 1919, with the famous 'Pink House Massacre', where a powerful and ancient family of pure-blood wizards was murdered and plundered by an organisation of Muggles.

The case became famous and spread throughout the world. For the first time in history, the Wizarding World saw with its own eyes what Muggles were capable of. They went from being lower class beings to being violent, carnal, heartless but above all; intelligent. Intelligent enough to organize, plan and execute a murder. And not just a murder; but a murder of a wizarding family. ‐ It didn't take long for wizards to go from terror to hatred. The spirit of war began to grow among wizards and witches. Desiring and demanding that the necessary measures be taken to end the threat that Muggles had proven to represent for Wizarding lives. The Ministry prevented this war. Despite having everything against them, the Ministry took the reins to prevent this growing catastrophe. At this point they were getting into territory they did not know; a war they weren't completely sure they could win, so in a clever move, the Ministry avoided a war with Muggles at all costs. Remembering that winter of 1919 as 'The war that never happened.'

Despite the apparent peace that was maintained, hatred and resentment grew within the magical community, which translated into hatred for Muggle-born Wizards and those from Half-Blood families, as well as repudiation of wizards born as Squibs. Wizards went from being superior to being defensive with any issue related to Muggles. The most powerful and ancient families closed themselves off even more, dividing the Wizarding World into those who had Pure Wizarding Blood and those who didn't.

This is how the forty years of peace that were to come were lived in the Wizarding World. Even if it meant more peace for some than for others. But leaving aside the social problems; peace was maintained enough to turn a blind eye to those minorities who suffered every day. - For the well-being of Muggles and Wizards, the war had been an extinguished flame that was left in the past and that the Ministry intended to keep that way. And they did; for forty years. And the society of Wizards and Non-Wizards lived in relative peace until January 1958, when for the first time the name 'The Angel of Death' began to be mentioned not only in Wizarding newspapers, but also in Muggle ones.

Throughout history there have been thousands of famous and well-known Wizard and Muggle murderers. However, they always remained separate in their respective worlds. In 1958 it was the first time that a murderer became world famous not only in the Wizarding World but also in the Muggle one. A phenomenon never seen before and due to its characteristics the Ministry didn't know how to handle it. - 'The Angel of Death' was a wizard or witch who committed their first crime in January 1958 by murdering five Muggle children. If that had been their only heinous act perhaps the world as we knew it would never have turned upside down as it did, but that was not the case; The Angel continued to commit crime after crime and by the end of 1958 they carried on their back the weight of 118 deaths of children, women and men who all had one thing in common; they were all Muggles.

Even with the terrifying number, the Ministry would have been able to control the situation if it weren't for the fact that The Angel was not a killer who liked to go unnoticed. They didn't kill just for some kind of justice; they killed for show. They saw their murders as works to be proud of not only in the eyes of wizards, but also, and especially, in the eyes of Muggles. They did all kinds of inhuman atrocity in the most obvious, disgusting and public way possible. Like a satire. Always with a macabre touch but above all always with magic. - 118 deaths in one year didn't go unnoticed in Muggle-London and the Muggle Ministry and the Wizard Ministry were, individually, trying to catch this killer.

This case became national emergency not only because of the fact that it was a person ending the lives of others but because The Angel was exhibiting magical phenomena before the eyes of Muggles with their murders; they was showing Muggles magic and what it could do. The images, stories and tales spread like plagues and by the end of the year the Muggle World was aware that Magic was real. The Ministry could do nothing to stop or refute it. Even with every single Auror in the country erasing Muggle memories; it was impossible to evade the new reality in front of them; the Muggle World and the Wizarding World were no longer divided.

The Angel of Death was never captured. Just as they appeared out of nowhere, they disappeared the same way. Wizards and Muggles had their own theories but truth was that neither of them had any idea of even the gender of this murderer. - The crimes stopped and, due to lack of clues, the investigation was permanently blocked. But, at the end of the day, what The Angel did was much more than just murders; they left an indelible stain on history.

In 1959, for the first time in history, the Wizarding Prime Minister and the Muggle Prime Minister had an official meeting. - The opinions of Muggles, civilians and ministers alike, were divided in two; fear or hate. At first fear reigned, which only gave birth to hatred. - Fear is a human instinct, and Muggles had more than enough excuses to be terrified. They just discovered not only that something like magic existed, capable of doing and undoing with terrifying ease, but also that this ability was not equal for everyone. That some simply had the gift of possessing it and others simply didn't. That was not only unfair, but dangerous. A reality that kept them uncertain about what the other would decide to do with them. - It was funny, but Wizards and Muggles feared each other. And, at the same time, they hated each other. Wizards felt superior, seeing all non-magic beings as inferior and harmful. And Muggles not only because of fear, but also because of the humiliation that wizards perpetuated on them for not having magic. And, for some, even driven by envy.

No one could blame Muggles for fearing for their lives. For the subjugation of their entire society as they knew it. Under the power that represented something as incomprehensible as magic. Things got worse and worse. From the ashes, that thirst for war was born again; only that this time, the non-mages had the initiative. Born of fear. Born of hate. It was not foreign to anyone; neither fame nor power nor a position in the Muggle Ministry saved them from feeling fear. It was almost a hive mind decision as everyone went into defensive mode.

It was in late 1959 and early 1960 that the Muggle armies mounted their first attack. Wizards came to know that January 1st as The Beginning of the War. And Muggles crowned that January 1st as the beginning of the Witch Hunt.

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“Come on, come on, up, we have to go.”

Sirius didn't have a very clear notion of time but he knew that this was not his time to get up for Kinder. - It was nighttime. Those hours of the night where the sky turns black and the stars shine brighter than usual. He knew he shouldn't be awake at that hour because his father always scolded him and Reggie for finding them up so late at night staring out the window at the stars. Looking for their constellations.

“Dad?” He rubbed his eye, squinting, trying to see in the darkness. All the lights in the house were off; only the dim moonlight illuminated the room enough for Sirius to make out his father taking a still sleeping Regulus in arms.

“We have to go, Sirius, get up.” It was on that second time that Sirius could notice the urgency in his father's voice and face. Plus the fact that his father spoke quietly; as if he didn't want to make too much noise. The remnants of sleep in Sirius' body faded away. Eyes wide and alert now that he was in the situation. Even though he didn't understand what was happening; Sirius could tell that something wasn't okay.

His father seemed in a hurry, so Sirius caught that energy. He got out of bed, in his pajamas, stuffed animal in hand as he watched his father dress up his half-asleep brother. “Dad, what's going on?” He asked innocently. Worried. His father was fully dressed, head to toe, as if he was ready to go outside. And he looked anxious.

“We have to go, Hon, we can't stay here.” His father didn't offer much more explanation as he approached, beginning to dress him in warm clothing over his pajamas. Sirius let him, still not understanding.

“Why not?” Sirius' voice was small. Big worried and confused eyes visible even in the dark. This was their home, why they couldn't stay?

“Sirius- no questions. Okay? Just do as I tell you.” His father finished and Sirius just nodded. Still with that uncomfortable feeling in his chest. His father put slippers, gloves, a scarf and his winter lion-shaped hat on him. They were going outside. Sirius didn't know why or where but he was smart enough to know that leaving home in the middle of the night wasn't a good sign. - It was cold outside; Sirius knew it because the snowman he made with Regulus yesterday was still intact; he could see it through the window. He didn't want to go outside. He wanted to stay in his warm, comfy bed. But his father wouldn't stop, and Sirius was already told not to ask any more questions.

“Let's go. Sirius, take my hand. Don't make any noise and don't walk away.” Regulus was still asleep, now in [Y/N]'s arms. Chubby cheek pressed on his father's shoulder, oblivious to everything that was happening. - Regulus was three years old, just a few months away from turning four. But their father still treated him like a baby. - Whatever was going on, Sirius was scared. But anyways, he complied; walking over to his father and taking his hand. Letting him lead them out. But not before making sure to take Regulus' favorite plushie with him. - He knew his little brother wouldn't like to wake up without it. And as for him; well, Sirius was sure that Mr. Paws would be waiting for him at home when they got back. He was the oldest, and he was a big boy now; he no longer needed to carry his stuffed animal everywhere.

He followed beside his dad as they walked towards the front door. Small hand gripping his father's tightly. He wasn't afraid of darkness, but why did all the lights have to be off? When his father opened the door he was surprised by the difference in temperature. It wasn't snowing, nor was there a strong wind. But the gentle gust was cold and it and froze Sirius' face. - The night was quiet; particularly quiet. In fact, there was not a sound in the entire neighborhood. No lights on. Not a trace of anyone around. Just darkness and the huge houses he had to look up at. Sirius couldn't help but feel intimidated; taking a step back towards his father. But as soon as [Y/N] closed the front door he hurried them to the car, which was already outside the garage.

His father opened the car's back door for him and Sirius was quick to get in. Watching as his father sat Regulus down beside him; adjusting his blanket. He was still dozing. - [Y/N] took a second to look at his children. Sirius didn't say anything; but he always had expressive eyes. And [Y/N] couldn't stand Sirius' worried eyes. He sighed. “I know. I know it's confusing, Honey. But I need you to listen to me, okay? To do as I tell you and take care of your brother, can you do that for me?”

“Yes daddy.” Sirius said. Of course he did. He was always good.

“That's my boy.” He took one of his son's cheeks, caressing it lightly. They didn't have much time. “Fasten your seatbelts.” He closed the car door and walked around it, getting in and putting on his own seatbelt. Glancing at his children in the backseat briefly before the car's engine filled the silence of the neighborhood. A second later the car was moving and Sirius could see their home receding into the distance.

He took a moment to look around. His dad seemed focused. He had his brow furrowed in concern, eyes on the road, so Sirius didn't dare interrupt him. Reggie was asleep against the seat, breathing deeply. With his plushie in his arms that Sirius made sure to put there. He leaned closer to him, feeling a sense of responsibility to protect his baby brother and also because being close gave him a feeling of comfort. — Sirius didn't know how to count the minutes but it took a long time for his father to relax a little. Taking his eyes off the road and glancing at him and Reggie through the rearview mirror. The street was empty and the car was moving slowly when [Y/N] started talking. “Sirius, Honey... Can you wake your brother up? I need to talk to you two.” He spoke. So gentle and so soft that Sirius felt the innocent urge to fall asleep.

Reggie wasn't usually a heavy sleeper, but he was just so tired from yesterday. He played in the snow with Sirius all afternoon. Their father didn't let them play in the yard, not usually. And outings to the neighborhood park were few and far between. So little Reggie was excited. Playing and having fun until his energy ran out. By the end of the day he was exhausted, dozing through dinner and falling asleep on the couch before he even made it to bed. His dad had to carry him up to his room and Sirius made a little comment that made [Y/N] chuckle. Last night felt warm compared to this. — Regulus stirred slowly, his small face scrunching up as he was roused from sleep. He could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. His small brow furrowed and he was about to complain about being woken up when he noticed that he wasn't in his bed. - Noticing the worried look on his older brother's face just after. Unease was in the air and Regulus was no stranger to it. Not even at his age. His eyes met Sirius' and then his father's. They both shared something similar; the sense of responsibility for him. Concern. Even Sirius felt it, being the eldest. And he was only five. But Reggie was too young to understand that. “Daddy?”

“Hey Honey” [Y/N] tried to give his son the best smile he had in store, which was actually a smile with worried eyes. He reached back to caress the toddler's sleepy, concerned face. He couldn't help but smile a little when Reggie leaned into it. “I have to tell you something.” He said, sighing after. How are you supposed to explain two children who can't even read yet that they were leaving home because war was after them? - Even though the war had already begun when his children were born; [Y/N] always tried to make sure his tots were unaware of how dangerous and unfair the world around them was. He knew this wouldn't last forever. And that his kids would eventually have to know the truth but, jeez, Sirius and Regulus were just that; kids. Reggie was only three. Telling them they had to run away from home because their own Muggle neighbors might come at night, break into their house and kill them wasn't something that felt good or even right to tell them. But he had, didn't he? He had because they were in more danger not knowing it. Because in times of war like these they couldn't afford to be naive. It didn't even matter being three and five years old. “...We are not going back home.”

“Dad, but-”

“No, Sirius- Let me speak.” It was painful. Not just for him; he could see it on his child's faces. Regulus looked so scared. “...I know it's hard, I know it's scary, but... we need to be strong, okay? We need to-...” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, just as his jaw clenched. He had to be honest. He had no choice. He couldn't keep decorating the ugly reality with bows and soft words. This was war; and their lives were in danger. “...Our neighborhood is no longer safe. Our neighbors-... began to suspect of me. Of my... nature. And I couldn't risk staying there. We can't go back home now. I'm sorry but that's not an option. We- We'll go somewhere different. I'll take you somewhere different. A better place. We'll be safe there, okay? Everything.. will be okay.” His voice sounded much less confident than he intended. He heard people talking about that place; a safe place to seek refuge. [Y/N] didn't trust it much, he didn't trust anyone; he had too much to lose. But it was the only option he had now. He had two children; he not only cared about his life but theirs as well. He couldn't stay there, in that neighborhood, with so many potential killers around. Not with his children there. He had to use the cards he had to try to keep his family safe.

“...I forgot Mr. Paws”

[Y/N]'s eyes softened. Oh, his sweet boy. “I'm sorry, Honey. We can't go get it back.”

Sirius just nodded. Because that's just how he was. Strong. Always trying to keep it all in. But [Y/N] knew his boy. And he could see Sirius' bottom lip tremble a little. And his big eyes become glassy with tears. Sirius was the eldest; but he was still a child.

[Y/N] reached back. His palm finding Sirius' cheek. The boy was trying so hard to hold back. “Shh” A tiny smile appeared on his face. A genuine one. A mixture of tenderness and sadness. His boys were just children. So, so young. They didn't deserve to be going through this. Sirius shouldn't have to leave Mr. Paws behind. “It's okay, baby. I-.. I'll get you a new one when we get there.” He said, but he knew his reassurance was of little use. Mr. Paws wasn’t just a stuffed animal; it was a symbol. Of safety. Of love. That couldn’t be replaced. [Y/N] was so sorry Sirius had to leave it behind like this.

The tears didn't fall. Sirius nodded, hurt but putting on a brave face. [Y/N] had no idea where he get that from, but he was so proud. “That's my boy” he smiled.

Silence fell over the car afterward. [Y/N] kept driving, glancing at his little ones through the rearview mirror from time to time. Sirius was silent. And Reggie, who lost sleep, curled up against him. He had been like that ever since the Mr. Paws scene. He held his own plushie in his arms so tightly that it seemed like the little snake's eyes would pop out. Face buried in Sirius' shoulder. - They hadn't made any comment about having to leave home. It weighed on them; of course it did. Heavily on all three of them. But Sirius and Regulus were born alongside the war, they grew up in a world where insecurity was a reality and they were always aware of that. It was sad for [Y/N] to see the painful way it was evident that his children never knew true freedom

“Fuck, damnit.” The curse came out of his mouth without thinking. He didn't want to scare the kids but he was fucking sure there were no police checkpoints in this area. That was exactly the reason why he chose this road. - He'd been in contact with Muggle World since he was a child; he knew firsthand how it worked and how to navigate it. How to take care of himself as a wizard living among Muggles. But Muggle World became more hostile since the war began. And hiding was impossible as a wizard or witch. So at some point not hiding was the best way to hide. That's why wizards, even those from great houses, lived in Muggle neighborhoods. - Muggles knew this. And so did Muggle Police. That was why they made monthly house-to-house checks in every part of the country. In every corner, in every small town, in every great mansion. Looking to 'arrest' and 'detain' wizards. That also meant there were police on every corner of every road. - But then again, sometimes not hiding was the best way to hide. And [Y/N] had no choice anyways.

He stopped the car, stifling a sigh. Trying to look as untense as possible as he rolled down the window. A policeman approached. “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” [Y/N] responded in kind. Forcing a smile on his face. He could see the officer taking a look on his children in the backseat.

“A bit late to be traveling with children.” The officer pointed out. [Y/N] cursed himself. How the hell was he going to explain that he was traveling in the middle of the night with two kids and a trunk full of suitcases? “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I- They're my kids. We're... moving. I wanted to get there in the morning so we left at this time.” He quickly made up. Thanking himself and taking back the curse from earlier. Maybe he could get out of this one.

“...I see.” He almost sighed in relief when the policeman seemed to believe him. “Can I see yours and your children's ID?”

“Yeah, of course” he handled them quickly; having them close beforehand. - Sirius and Regulus had Wizard IDs, but they also had Muggle IDs. [Y/N] made sure of that. Plus, they were both born in Muggle Hospitals. So in the eyes of law, they were two Muggle children. And [Y/N], despite his mother being a wizard, had his Muggle ID too. He wasn't born in a Muggle Hospital; but he was registered in the Muggle General Registry Office thanks to his father; who was a Muggle.

“Very good,” The officer said. Nodding. Handing back the ID cards. “Do you mind if we check the trunk?”

“No, of course.” He said, as if he really had a choice. He was calm about the trunk; there was nothing strange in there. He had clothes, his and the children's, some food, household items that he didn't want to part with. - He regretted all the things he had to leave behind at home. Their stuff, the boys toys, the photos. Things that [Y/N] would never see again and it broke his heart. At least he knew he was saving the most important thing: his children. But he didn't hesitate to bring a photo album with him. And some old love letters.

“Okay, everything in order here.” The officer returned to his window, bringing him out of his slight reverie. He nodded. “Everything alright with the kids?” The officer couldn't help but add. It was true; Sirius and Regulus looked tense. And tired. [Y/N] would be suspicious too. Which was stupidly kind of him knowing that if he was arrested here he would be separated from his children.

“Yeah, they're fine. I had to wake them up, so they're a little tired but they're fine. I'll let them sleep on the ride.” He said. Again, the policeman seemed to believe him.

“Okay Sir. You can go on.” The officer said, leaning out the window to give the children a smile. “Get some rest, lads. It's going to be a long night.”

Indeed it will. Sirius gave the officer a stiff nod and soon [Y/N] was leaving. Sighing in relief. Thanking heaven and hell that the officer didn't check him, otherwise he would have found the wand in his coat. - For protection, he had to keep it close. The streets were not safe. And although being found carrying a wand was a sure death sentence, in these conditions, he couldn't afford to go without it either. Much less with the children with him.

The minutes kept passing and the car didn't stop. [Y/N] drove as fast as he could without raising suspicion. The streets were dark and the children didn't recognize them anymore. They were far from home; that was for sure. - Sirius stayed wide awake even though his body ached with sleep. His eyes were heavy, drooping shut at times. His father told him he could sleep, that it was okay, but Sirius didn't want to. The feeling of constant tension and danger in the car kept them all awake and alert. Sirius held his little brother close.

[Y/N] was tense. He wasn't having a good time. He was tired, too. His mind had been on alert and panicked for days, while he was organizing an escape plan from his own house. - [Y/N] knew he couldn't stay in that house after all that happen. — He moved to that neighborhood in his early twenties. The house belonged to his aunt, his mother's sister, who was a witch. She disappeared one day, probably murdered, and the house was left in his mother's name. [Y/N] moved there and lived there until now. Sirius and Regulus were raised there, and their neighbors knew him and knew who he was. - [Y/N] knew he had wizard neighbors. Or suspected so. No one trusted anyone; wizards didn't reveal themselves to other wizards they didn't have a close relationship with. But [Y/N] knew there had to be more wizards in that place.

And there was. Or, well, were. A young couple, newly married. They were murdered a week ago, discovered in some way that [Y/N] had no idea about. They were executed in the central square of the neighborhood. [Y/N] had to be there. It was frowned upon not to go and witness the executions of mages and [Y/N] did not wanted to be seen in a bad light. So he was there. - He could still remember the screams of the woman, crying as she watched her husband being decapitated with a machete. [Y/N] couldn't handle staying there for long, returning home with a lump in his throat and the desperate need to be there to protect his sons. The next day, their burned and unrecognizable bodies were still lying in the middle of the square where Sirius and Regulus were playing days before. - He knew he couldn't stay there. That he had too much to lose, that he couldn't take the risk, that he had to get out of there. So, as soon as he felt his neighbors looking at him strangely and whispering among themselves, [Y/N] began to plan how to get out of there as soon as he had the chance.

He had heard of this place. This refuge created by wizards. It was called The Order of the Phoenix. Run by Dumbledore, a famous old Minister who had been very present during the war and before. Dumbledore was the man who prevented the war against Muggles in 1919, 'The war that never happened'. And was present now too. [Y/N] didn't quite know what Dumbledore was up to at the moment. Wizarding newspapers were hard to come by but [Y/N] managed to discover the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. He heard stories of families being taken in there. The place was a refuge for wizards fleeing war. Adults, children. Families, singles. All kinds of wizards. And right now, all [Y/N] needed a shelter for his sons.

[Y/N] had no family left. He had no one to turn to. His father and mother died weeks after Sirius was born. Killed by the war. His mother, a witch, was killed like all wizards were killed; burned. His mother was burned alive at a stake in the middle of the village like they did with every wizard who was discovered. The Muggle Ministry managed to take charge of his father, putting him in prison for having married a witch. [Y/N] didn't know if he was still alive but, oh, he knew. He just knew. Muggle prisons were hostile, not just to wizards, but to themselves as well. [Y/N] knew his father was no longer alive. It was painful to know that his parents didn't even get to have a grave with their names on it. And it was even more painful knowing that Sirius and Regulus never got to met their grandparents. It was a mourning that [Y/N] continued to carry and would carry for life. Being attacked by how his loving parents were killed in such a horrible way. So dirty, so cruel. But, he was a father himself now. And he would trade the world for the moon if it meant not letting that happen to his children. He wouldn't let that happen to his children.

I know, I KNOW you guys want more but WAIT. I had to cut it there. The chapter was actually supposed to be longer but it was already too long so you'll have to wait for part 2. And, sorry for having to cut the chapter so abruptly. Whatever, DID YOU GUYS LIKED THAT?? honestly I'm so proud of myself jsjjsj 🤭 I have no idea where all this came from but I HAVE MORE. So, wait for part two. I promise it gets even better. The next chapter gets so INTERESTING. I mean, THINGS HAPPEN. Wait for it I promise it's worth it.

See you soon!

Btw, have you noticed that I'm posting more often? that's actually crazy

:P

[rottenherbs]

A Weasley Holiday (pt.2) // G.W x reader

Summary: After you arrived to the Burrow, you awoke from a quick nap for dinner. Afterwards everyone rushed outside to build a snowman, you and George more interested in other plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: SHORTY! Ive been busy with work and the holidays! Lots of socializing — Anyways, I have been slowly working on pieces as i can, not as fast as i could a month ago! But after the holidays ill be more inclined to whip out pieces like you’ve never seen. Thank you for reading!

[masterlist] (part one here <-)

Much Love, Saige

————————

You woke up from your slumber by your cheek being softly caressed. You didn’t dare open your eyes, too blissfully comfortable and warm underneath the sheets. You attempted to keep your eyes closed, enjoying every last touch George's fingertips gave you.

“Darling come on. It’s supper time, and mum made your favorite.” He whispered, his fingers now brushing your hair around your face. He admired how you looked in his bed, wishing he had gotten into bed with you earlier.

“She made Shepard pie?” You asked, your eyes glimmering up at George. He laughed lightly, his hand still cupping your cheek nodding in affirmation. He slipped a hand under the blankets peeling them back from your body, urging you to get up. You shivered dramatically, your once toasty body now exposed to the elements.

“Here you little freeze baby.” George turned and walked to his closet, searching meticulously for something to give you. You pulled the covers back over you, tucking your chin playfully as you waited. He rummaged for a while before turning and holding up a tattered sweatshirt. It had a large Hogwarts crest on the front, the imagery worn beautifully down. You reached out your hands excitedly, happy to wear any piece of his clothing.

“It’s from 5th year….a little tight on me now” He shrugged, turning back to the closet to pick something out for himself. Slipping it over your head, your arms snaked through the sleeves holding them up to your nose and inhaling deeply. It was reminiscent of his old cologne, one that he didn’t typically wear anymore. So nostalgic and sweet.

You eventually got out of bed and walked down the winding staircase to the kitchen, now bustling with activity. Harry arrived as well, taking a place at the table sending you a casual wave over. You and George broke off, you going towards the dining table and him off to help his mum in the kitchen.

“It’s so nice to see you here y/n.” Harry smiled, scooting over on the bench to make room for you. You gladly sat down, looking around the space once more.

“I’m so happy to be here.” You said breathlessly. Every minute felt like a dream. Like a true vacation in a quaint little home with your friends and family. This is what the holidays were about.

”We're gonna go out after supper, try to make a snowman if you’d like to join?” Harry asked, picking up his glass of water. Taking a sip, George bounded over before you could respond.

“Sounds like potential for a snowball fight.” He raised his eyebrows looking over at you. “Were in”.

You just shook your head, happy to participate anyway. Harry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, all three of you enveloping into small conversation about the plans for the remainder of winter break.

Dinner was wonderful, and Mrs. Weasley berated you after you called her Mrs.Weasely attempting to give compliments to the chef.

“Call me Molly dear, please. I might as well pitch up a sign on the door for everyone.” She exhaled, laughing lightly to herself. “Mrs.Weasley, good heavens.” Placing a hand on her chest rolling her eyes playfully. “Now I know i'm not that old!” The whole table chuckled, your beating heart slowing down, suddenly less afraid that she was truly upset with you. It became quite apparent that you and Harry had trouble calling her Molly; you’d both rather call her mum (but you’d never reveal that).

After dinner you stayed back and helped clean up, placing the dirty dishes next to the sink as they magically lifted one by one and washed themselves. The system of housecleaning was easy and the chores were minimal meaning you, Harry, and the Weasley siblings were out into the snow in no time.

Everyone was bundled up to the highest degree, not risking any contamination of icy wind or snow inside their clothes. Each person was distinctly larger, several layers and large boots changed the dimensions of each of the boys, you as well. It felt as if you had your own padding and shielding, godric forbid you get hit with a nasty snowball. Unfortunately for you, the chances were high.

You and George limped outside, the snow was as high as your shins creating such resistance to each step you took. Finding a satisfactory pile, you turned to face George and fell on your back, the snow cushioning your descent very nicely. George laughed and followed your lead, practically belly flopping into the snow face down, rolling around like a freshly washed dog. His clothes were covered in the white dust, and he became almost invisible if you squint hard enough.

While George was busy trying to stand back up, his body slightly off balance from the accumulation of snow, you pounded a small mound of snow together in your hands, aiming it directly at his chest, or so you thought.

The snowball gracefully flew through the air, cresting just above his head and landing directly on his face, splattering the cold debris everywhere. Goerge yelped, falling to the ground, his hands clutching his chest dramatically.

“I've been SHOT. FRIENDLY FIRE FRIENDLY FIRE!” He yelled, rolling around the snow once more. You laughed heartily, rushing over to his flailing body.

“I didn’t mean to hit you in the face! I’m so sorry-“ You started to apologize, but George’s hand whipped up once you got close enough, pulling you to the ground swiftly. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you rolling on top of eachother, pushing and tossing snow in eachothers face playfully. Once you two were out of energy, you stopped to catch your breath, both laying up towards the sky.

Your cheeks were reddened from the cold air and the tip of your nose was frozen to the touch. You turned your head towards George who laid beside you.

“I just can't get enough of you.” He mumbled, looking over at you. You smiled, staring into eachothers eyes, nothing but the sound of Ron and Harry yelling in the background about the logistics of their snowman’s proportions. You couldn’t have been more grateful to be living in this exact moment as you were.

You glanced over at Harry and Ron, Fred now joining them with a pile of sticks, all to entranced in their snowman to notice you both. You looked back at George with a smirk on your face, feeling particularly flirty. You leaned over quickly placing a small kiss on his cheek and on his lips, hovering lightly before planting another. He looked at you with wide eyes, enjoying the kiss, but nervously checking on harry and Ron, a feeling of embarrassment if you were caught kissing.

Something deep in George’s core lit like a fire, his body reacting pleasantly to the idea of possibly being caught, that you two kissing was forbidden, or at the very least secretive.

His hands quickly grabbed your body, the barrier of the clothing frustrating his fingers, unable to fully feel your skin. Your lips were freezing, but warmed up lightly to the feeling of his, cascading gracefully and slowly alongside eachother. The kiss seemed to deepen quickly, both of your hands holding onto his face, pulling his body as close to you as possible. His hands held your jacket tightly, as if he was willing to rip it off of your body. You both laid on your side facing each other, bodies stiff and immovable, just your heads bobbing rhythmically.

George pulled back, resting his head on the snow completely out of breath. You bit your lip, watching him lay back, wishing he didn’t kissing you. Your chest was burning, itching for more contact. He pulled you onto his chest, now maneuvering your head to look up towards the sky. It had darkened severally since you all came outside, the stars now shining brightly.

“Do you believe we are all alone here. In our galaxy?” George whispered. The silence lingered between you two, taking the time to think of your own opinion.

“I’m not sure.” You finally responded. You weren’t sure. Would it be sadder that you were alone as a species completely in the universe, or too far to ever meet the other life, both ideas making your head spin.

“I think id be alright either way.” George mumbled. “I feel pretty satisfied with just you.” He leaned, whispering sultry into your ear. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, your body becoming hot again, not even the snow was able to cool your nerves. Your hands traveled back to his neck pulling him closer to you, the kiss resuming with the same amount of passion.

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to last out in the cold, but you also weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself if you both went inside

[muntitled]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x afab!Reader

Summary: Pansy voices her concern for your relationship. Mattheo couldn't care less.

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Trust Issues, Jealousy, Toxicity, Ravenclaw!Reader, Male Manipulation, Gaslighting, Manhandling, Marking, Smut +18 (mdni), Hard Dom!Matt, Sub!Reader, Fingering, PiV, Degradation Kink, Impact Play, Forced Breeding, Spit Play, DUB/CON, Grinding, Forced Orgasm, Rough Sex, Humiliation Kink, Slight CNC, Extreme Humiliation,

3.5k words

"How utterly unbecoming." Pansy mutters and you roll of eyes.

Everything in the entire universe coukd be perfectly placed and Pansy would simply have to find something wrong. From the moment you invited her into your dorm room, you knew she'd find soemthinf amiss. No amount of cleaning spells could hide under her scrutiny.

"Since when does your room smell like cigarettes and firewhiskey?" You curse under your breath, squinting your eyes shut as you shrug off your cloak.

"Was he in your room again?" She asks, lowering herself onto your bed with a certain amount of caution that should have offended you. It's not that you hated Pansy - you just didn't fancy her, nor her opinions about your relationship at the best of times. To Pansy, the possibility of you even being in a relationship, with an actual boy who displayed interest in you, had been remarkably out of left field.

"Mattheo?" You ask, dropping yojr textbook on the bed as you unconvered your wand, "He's my boyfriend, Pan, it comes with the terroriry," You flick your wand, casting Multicorfors while Pansy readied her study equipment. While Pansy's complaints expand and morph, so do your clothes. The tight, constricting uniform you donned for the majority of the school day whizzes into your lounge wear. A sweater- Ravenclaw blue and black shorts. The summer sun is very oppressive and incredibly unforgiving. 

Nothing but warm, uncomfortable air drifts over your legs.

"He's changed you, you know?" Pansy says very solenmenly, staring at you with those raven eyes as you lower yourself onto the bed.

"Can we study, please? They don't call these the Nastiky Exhausting Wizarding Test wothout a reason."

"You used to be quieter," Pansy continues, and you sigh. Not quieter, just less confident, but yoj don't bother to tell her this. She had been comfortable with you playing your role as the shy, little Ravenclaw she adopted out of pity. You went unnoticed for the longest times. Burying your feelings of anonymity under the guise of academic drive.

He saw you.

He liberated you.

"Can we study?" You sigh heavily, letting your fingers rakes into your scalp, pushing your braids back as you hoped to do with the oncoming migraine.

She can barely keep his dark eyes stationed to one spot, turning her disapproval to her surroundings. Prefects were reserved single rooms and for that, you were grateful.

You and Pansy had chosen to alternate locations for every study session. For DADA, you were forced to recount spells on the cold floor of of the slytherin dungoen. That was torute, havjng to pretend to focus on your work while you could here his voice amongst his friends, loud and boistrrous.

Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) you were both studying in your dorm room - a dire mistake because nearly everything in your room reminded you of Mattheo. 

Your biggest reminder of his presence, however, being the marks riddled along your sternum, neck and chest. All the little gifts he left you, hidden away under the thickness of a Ravenclaw sweater.

She feigned hyperbolic horror as she imagines all the artorcocities that moghtve happened on this bed. No matter how much you informed her everything was clean, you know it was no use.

"We should've just studied in my room,"

"And have me at risk of catching whatever diseases lay in the Malfoy bloodline?" You snorted at your own reply, gloriously pleased as you began to idly stroking the bit of raw skin concealed under your knitted turtleneck.

"I hope you know, I'm not on board with your relationship-"

"Can we refrain from talking about Mattheo?"

"This isn't even dating anymore. Mattheo is fucking consuming you," There is a blaze of vexation in her tone that has you fighting the urge to look up from your notes, "He's fucking everywhere, [☆], I can barely breathe-" The marks left along your neck scratch into the hellish, knitted fabric, and Pansy's whining seems to make it worse. "Not to mention, your questionable taste in men. I mean, Mattheo? Really? He's a certified delinquent and you're far too nice for him-"

Soon, youre utterly overwhelmed. Failing to keep up with Pansy, and her incessant nagging as well as the knitted nightmare around you're throat.

Without much thought at all, fingers hook into your sweater, before you began to pull it up. Slowly the fabric inches away, making your warm skin accessible to the dorm room's constant shade of cool, and relief immediately floods through your system.

This relief is promptly disturbed by Pansy's rough and torrid gasp which has you comically pushing your sweater back into place at the speed of life.

"What in the bloody hell is all that?!" Her cries fight to reach the ceiling in your room. You wince, disappointed but not regretting being momentarily freed from the sweater,

"Nothing,"

"Don't you dare lie to me," she says, pushing her books away, and leaning towards you with wide eyes. You frown at the worry you see swimming in her irisies - thinking that this is precisely what you were trying to avoid. Her worry and her knack for jumping to conclusions.

Your nose is buried in your notes as you lay back and say "Don't look so worried,"

"Don't tell me not to look worried, I'll bloody hell look how I want to look- as worried as I want to look, thank you very much!"

"Shh!"

"Merlin's beard! What the actual fuck is Mattheo attempting to accomplish there?" She attempts to pull at the sweater, attempting to get another glimpse at the bruises but you pull away until your back rests directly agaisnt your headboard. "Is he a fucking vampire because he sure as shit leeches like one!?"

"They're just lovebites," you attempt to say with a small shrug, but Pansy is even more disturbed.

"Those aren't just love bites, they're fucking bruises,"

You hated her tone. You despised it. It made you feel ostracized, and bad, and pitiful.

There is no reality in which you could possibly tell Pansy that these marks were a product of your desires, not the villainous being she painted Mattheo out to be. As if you were suffering by his hands.

Was it so didficult to imagine that, perhaps you asked him to handle you a little rougher?

That, Mattheo had initially been nothing but meticulous when it came to preserving what he thought was your unmistakable innocence and fragility.

You rememebr the softness of his hands when he took yoir virginity. How he hovered above you, clenching his jaw as he eased himself inside you at snail pace,

"I don’t have anywhere to be, take your time," you had jested with a lazy smile while, Riddle's jaw had ticked.

"Carry on with your little jokes and I might not be so forgiving," There was only a sliver of truth in his voice Mattheo thought he might force himself deeper just because his patience was waning. He needed to go quicker, he needed to be rougher. This gentleness was going against everything in his very nature. His body burened for him to make a mess inside you, clamp his hand around your mouth and fuck you into the mattress until you begged him to stop untl you would have the marks to prove it.

But he liked you.

And he had never felt this way before.

And he would never let his recklessness steal this away from him

But you felt him twicth inside you, and you peered up at his brown eyes now squeezed shut,

"What were you thinking about," you asked softly, as Mattheo begun a slowly rhythm with his hips- barely grazing that pool of need inside you.

"Don't worry about what I'm thinking about," He blew out a hot and heavy breath, "what the fuck are you think about? You're cunt is gripping my cock like a vice, you fucking slut," He did not mean to say that.

Or maybe he did.

The words rush out through clenched teeth, your thighs framing him only locked tighter around his hips as you stared up at the shadow over his darkened eyes. This is what you wanted. This is what made you fall in love with him in the first place.

His warning glare alone kicked your arousal up by alot and soon, your soft hips were lifting in tandem with his strokes, "you like that?"

For the first time that evening, you were utterly speechless. Mattheo watched with shallow breath as your pupils dilated and his cock twitched with the knowledge that you were slipping into subspace right in front of him. He experimentally brought a calloused hand around the base of your throat, testing, "you like it when I call you my little slut?"

"Oh fuck- Mattheo,"

"That's not an answer,"

"Yes!" That evening, Mattheo had the sole mission of discovering what else it is you enjoyed, marveling at how much your sexual preferences ran parallel to each other: you, ever the obedient sub with an affinity for being degraded and praised at tje same time and him, ever the sadist, with his prolonged orgasms ans his slapping and his spitting and his name calling.

Just thinking about it was sending you into servitude complete frenzy, right here on the couch of a common room that is not yours, bloody hell, you were getting turned on by the very memory of him.

Your ripped back into the present when your door flies open. "Don't tell me if can't be here, alright, it's your fault for giving me the passw-" Mattheo stills at the sight of Pansy. Your eyes widen. Horrified.

"There the fuck you are!" Pansy exclaims, "You fucking insolent piece of-"

"Pansy," Mattheo says. That crooked smirk of his grackng his face as he pushes the door shut by leaning back, "Never a pleasure seeing you." Leaving the bristling girl, he turns to you, brown curls dripping with sweat he says, "Princess, always a pleasure,"

Mattheo sends you a lecherous little wink, but your gaze is on your parchment on your lap. You had messed up. You'd let a stranger in on the most intimate parts of your relationship and you're not sure how Mattheo might handle it. His brows furrow in confusion.

"What the bloody hell have you put in her head now?" He asks Pansy with a slight frown.

"Why does she have marks on herself?" She grumbles like a dark cloud.

His brows are furrowed for the most part. Arms crossed over his Slytherin sweater as he tilts his head.

"Oh!" He strides across the floor and you shiver when stands beside you, pullkng down the collar of your sweater before asking, "These marks?"

You pull away from him, but he pulls you right back. As he leans agasint ths wood of your four poster bed, he drapes his arm around you like a scarf.

Watching Pansy as he says, "Don't hide it, baby show it off,"

"Mattheo," you warn.

"I think Pansy should see herself out," you hear him say. And she huffs and puffs.

The summer heat is eating you alive, biting at chunks of your sanity, rendering you completely unable to engagein an argument. Your tired eyes have been stagnant on the quilt draped on your bed since the two started. You're spent.

"This isn't even studying. We'll continue tomorrow," you stand abruptly as you scramble to get all of Pansy's things off the floor. This has gone on for far too long.

Far too long.

She watches you assemble her belongings with wide eyes and an open mouth while an incredulous smirk plays along Riddle's lips.

"No way-"

You're already pushing her towards the door.

"I'll see you in DADA tomorrow"

"No fucking way-"

"Pansy, for fuck's sake, everything we've done has been consensual. I love you. So so much, but please get the fuck out so I can think straight!" 

She is stunned into silence as you wordlessly open your front door. "

She nods woodenly, and behind you, Mattheo chortles.

You turn your head, "You're on thin fucking ice, Riddle." you snap at him and his mouth snaps shut as he rights his posture.

Pansy sighs after reassuring you that she'll see you tomorrow and you sigh in turn.

"I liked that tone." Riddle says, already shedding his sweater as he throws himself on your bed. "You should use it more often-"

"Shut the fuck up," you mumble before walking across the wooden floor with purpose. He props himself up by his elbows.

"I'm not the one to be mad at here-"

"Shut. Up." You repeat before crawling onto his lap until your legs were straddling his hips. You she'd your own sweater.

"Who're you talking to like tha-" before Mattheo could even get a word in, your lips are crashing onto his. It's not as sweet or polite a kiss like he usually expects from you. 

This kiss is loud, it's hungry and violent.

His nails dig into your braids. His bottom lips are pulled in between your teeth and your body is trembling on top of his. You couldn't tell him that you found his behaviour today both hot and completely inappropriate. 

You're trying to push your tongue into his mouth. His teeth clamp shut but you nip at his bottom lip, causing him to let out a low grown. Your tongue slithers into his mouth.

You're trying to overpower him and Mattheo puts a stop to that real quick.

He's breathing agaknst your lips.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" He asks in that tone that was equally beautiful and so scary to you, "you think just 'cus you shouted at your little friend, you thought you could do the same to me?" The tables are turning, and just as quickly,  Mattheo's hand cups the base of your neck. He squeezes right before pulling your neck closer, until your ear is pressed against his lips. "I'm not Pansy, yeah?" He says. And you're not even able to get a word out before he's forcing his forefingers into your mouth until you're gagging all over them. "You get to pull that shit out there. Not in here," 

When he pulls his fingers out, they're absolutely coated in your saliva. He wastes no time in pushing that same hand down your shorts and into your lace panties.

"Who'd you wear these for? D'you wear them for Pansy, you fucking slut-"

"Oh my god, Matt-" your knees cramp as your hips snap against Mattheo's hand rubbing fast circles on your clit. He stares up at you like a God, your knees digging into the ned underneath you both.

He knew he had you and Mattheo cackled as you writhed on his lap like a wild animal. He keeps you tame with a firm hold around your throat.

"Matt, p-please-"

You're not sure what you're asking for. Maybe a slower speed so you could enjoy yourself properly? Anything but those menacing eyes of his looking up at you with dark hunger.

"Who's whore are you, you haven't answered-"

"F-Fuck I'm gonna cum-" 

"Without asking?" He tsks the very moment stars explode in your vision and you're humping his hand like a dog in heat. There was no way you could've ever put off this orgasm and Mattheo knew that. He's rubbing so furiously as if he was fighting to get a point across.

"Fuck-" Mattheo curses under his breath before pulling his hand out of your shorts. 

You're a trembling mess. He kisses far harder than you had kissed him. Like he wants to make a point. 

"Take these off- I need'a see those beautiful marks baby," despite his words, it's Mattheo who helps you out of your woollen sweater. The string of cultural beads hanging from your waist come into view. At the sight of all his bruises, far too many to count, covering your entire collar bone, Mattheo's hand flies to his dick. 

He pulls you in by the neck for another messy kiss before lifting you off his lap. His lips trail from your cheeks and down to your collarbone where his teeth extend. He bites hungrily into the marks, savoring your loud whining as pushes down your shorts. 

"I'm gonna cum inside you." A gasp leaves your throat and your eyes widen. You look down at Mattheo, his eyes showing just how far gone he is.

"But I didnt- we never-"

"Shh," he whispers before guiding the palm of his hand to your warm cheeks. He caresses the skin, making your eyes go hazy and your limbs jello. He lifts his hips, pushing down his sweatpants. Your chest tightens as he pulls his cock out. As if in autopilot you move to take your own shorts off before straddling him once more.

"You wanna be good for me, yeah? You wanna be my whore, don't you?"

"Yeah-"

"I knew you'd be a good girl for me," he says before bringingyour soaking cunt down on cock. It was very similar to the last time. You could tell this was Eren's favourite position. To have you naked on top of him. Curves and all.

"You're so hot- fuck-" you hear him mumble below. He stutters his hips upwards, promting you to grind down against him.

"The humping is hot as shit-" he groans, "But I'm gonna cum inside my Princess-" He pats down at your hair, his fingers dragging through your braids as you mewl into the warm air.

His other hand slides down your chest, fingers gliding down your waist beads until he is rubbing his palm against your ass.

"You're trembling, Princess," he says.

"M'sorry" you apologise without even knowing why. It's then that Mattheo knows he has you in subspace. That mental space where you were particularly pliant. So incredibly malleable. His cock twitches.

"I'm already leaking precum, fuck-" you shudder against him, cunt clenching around nothing as you grind against him, loving the way he got particularly reckless with his mouth whenever he was far too horny. You could feel the arousal leak out of you.

"Pl-Please fuck me,." Your hand searches the bedsheets for his, "I need it- need you, please,"

"Fuck," he mumbles before lining his cock up at your slit. He lifts your torso enough to cup his hand around your breasts. Time stands still when he eases it in. He doesn't know where to look. Your face, contoreted in pleasue and pain. Or his cock disappearing into your roaked cunt.

"Fuck, I'll never tire of that." He groans. "I'll never tire of you." furiously. His hips snaps upwards, sinking his cock in.

He sets a jittery and stilted pace. As if he was doing it all for the sole purpose of fucking his cum into you. "My pretty girl," he mumbles as he pushes his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked slit, "My pretty princess," he says, "All fucking mine-"

"I'm cumming-" Youre only aware of it when your hands scrape against his bare chest. Your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as your back arches.

The words barely leave your mouth before your brain goes absolutely dumb.

"You that sensitive, huh?" He teases in between sound winded and breathless. "Are you that much of a slut? Cumming the second there's a cock inside you-"

"M-Matt, fuck," you try to ride him, but your body's euphoric spasms are too violent too viscious.

"Oh my God," He'd never had sex like this. He'd never felt anyone like this. He lifts torso until you're chst to chest. Matt curses as he wraps your legs around him, grinding you further against his cock.

"I'm gonna fucking breed you." He promises. Watching you dead in the eyes.

You've both lost all rhythm. By now it's staggering apparent he's searching for his orgasm.

He snaps his hips against yours. "Gonna breed you-" He says, splaying wet kisses along your chest. "Gonna let everyone know who you belong to- fuck-"

His resolve snaps and his movements become sloppy. "These tits-" His muscles tense as he spurts all his cum inside you. Seconds feel like hours in the haziness of this rough and raw sex. His hands are everywhere, praising every inch of your skin as his cock stays buried inside you. His teeth sink into he skin at your neck and you moan as your cunt constricts his cock. Mattheo has you wrapped in his trembling arms. Mouth agape and eyes hazy.

He pulls apart a little to look down, between your conjoined bodies as he eases his cock out with clenched teeth.

You shiver when his fingers replace his cock. With his middle and index, he forces the cum back inside.

"I-I really need to learn a contraception spell," he whistles lowly.

"And I really need to study." You sigh.

[mtheonott]

Time=love

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⌗ comfort, fluff, hugs, sleepy

word count: 281

note: forget bout the high concentration of magic ;)

Watching TikToks with your arms around each other has become your tradition.

At Hogwarts, many students (unbeknownst to the teachers) carried phones with them into the building and used Muggle apps.

You were no exception. Taking a snapchat photo a couple of times, taking off lipsings on tiktok, posting stories on Instagram is the routine of the day.

However, the most favorite part of your time has become lazily scrolling through videos with your boyfriend Theodore. He happily agreed to this adventure, hugging you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and sitting you between his legs. He wasn't interested in this app, but he agreed to share romantic videos with romantic songs, like from Lil pip. More often than not, he would just doze off, closing his eyes and lazily stroking your thighs. This tradition has become your favorite.

Especially in the evening, after dinner. You lock yourself in the room, next, on the chest of drawers, there are two mugs of hot tea. The room is warm and pleasant. The guy's soft strokes soothe after a hard day. There are various stories in there recommendations, and of course you have to discuss them. Your fingers are already automatically scrolling through the video, where there is a handsome man, so that Nott does not notice. "We'll have to make it later," you lazily respond to the tiktok dance video, knowing full well that you're unlikely to do it. Eyelids get heavy when the clock is late.

After removing the last video, you could go to sleep. Or, in order not to spend the day lazily, go to Zabini to discuss gossip. It doesn't matter. The main thing is together.

[myjealouseyes]

twitter AU part four 😁😁 classes have been kicking my ass lately sorry for ghosting. More on girls night next time!